Courage of Fools
by Aireon Maris
Summary: "When I agreed to be Amitiel's vessel, I agreed to leave everything behind. Her and Cas, Bobby and Sam and Dean...they're my family now. I won't leave them. Not ever." 3rd in the Angel of Truth Cycle.
1. Chapter 1

Courage of Fools

A/N: Hello! I'm so happy you're choosing to read this. This story is the third in my Angel of Truth Cycle, and it would probably help you to read the first two: Little Girl Lost and Where Angels Fear To Tread. This story will probably make a whole lot more sense if you do. This story takes place shortly after the season five episode "Changing Channels." There are spoilers for the entire series up to that point.

XXXXX

For a moment Sam could almost pretend he was flying. Then reality came crashing back with a vengeance when his forward momentum was violently impeded by a wall. He landed on the ground with a thud and contemplated just staying there, but duty called, so he ignored the bruises he was rapidly amassing and climbed to his feet.

The demons had come out of nowhere. They'd been working on a case another hunter passed on to Bobby, which turned out to be a revenant, but as soon as they decided on a victory beer, they'd been jumped by a whole pack of black-eyed hell spawn.

"Sam, little help here!" Dean rasped. He was pinned to the wall, his own shotgun held across his neck by a female demon. He struggled to push the gun away, to give himself breathing space, but it was doing no good.

Sam swooped down to snatch up the discarded flask of holy water and flung it at the demon attacking Dean. It let him go with a shriek of pain, steam rising from its exposed flesh. Dean retrieved his shotgun, spun it around, and shot the demon in the face with a salt round. Two more demons charged, ready to rip the boys to shreds, but Dean managed to blast one in the chest and Sam emptied the rest of the holy water over the other's head.

"Where the hell is the knife?" Dean demanded as he fumbled to load two more rounds. Sam scanned the floor.

"I dropped it somewhere," he replied shortly, backing away from the group of angry demons. All of them bore salt- or holy water-induced injuries, and they were all as pissed as Hell. "This is gonna suck," he said with a resigned sigh.

"You're telling me," Dean griped, lifting his shotgun to his shoulder. The demons tensed for another onslaught when the air stirred faintly. A girl slid between two of the demons on her knees, a silver sword flashing in her hand as she slashed it across the back of one of the demon's legs. The demon crumpled to the ground with a cry as the girl spun to her feet, slamming her blade through the demon's throat.

The remaining demons descended on the girl with screams of rage but she moved through them like a dancer, spinning, dodging, and striking when it was least expected. She slashed her sword across the throat of one demon, kicking the corpse into a second to send them both sprawling on the floor. A third demon swung a metal bar at her head, but she caught his wrist with her left hand, plunging her sword through his heart.

Before she could pull her blade free, another demon attacked from behind. She kicked out without looking, planting her booted foot in the demon's chest and sending him flying towards the Winchesters. They dodged out of the way, letting the demon land on a table, crushing the wood beneath him.

Sam finally caught sight of the demon-filling knife and snatched it up, pouncing on the demon still lying amid the splintered table. It light up red-purple from the inside when he stabbed it, throwing the shadows of its bones against its skin. When he turned around, the girl was drawing her sword out of the throat of the last demon, letting the corpse fall to her feet. She stood there for a moment, her chest heaving slightly, and looked around the bar.

She wasn't particularly impressive in appearance, being a two inches over five feet and almost painfully thin. Her white-blonde hair fell in wind-blown waves below her shoulders and her skin was incredibly pale, almost sickly, making her dark gray eyes look like empty holes in her otherwise youthful face. She flicked blood from the edge of her sword and slid it up the sleeve of her jacket.

"Hello, Sam. Dean," she greeted in a voice deeper than one would expect from someone so petite.

"Ami," Dean replied, lowering his shotgun. "Long time, no see. Nice timing."

Amitiel, angel of the Lord and recently fallen from Heaven, stepped over the bodies of the demons and walked over to Sam, reaching up to take hold of his chin and turning his head so she could examine the gash on his forehead. "You should be more careful," she told him reprovingly. "You have little concern for your own safety."

"Sorry," Sam replied a little sheepishly. She gave him a little smile and released him, stepping back. "It's, uh, good to see you," Sam went on. Amitiel and Castiel had left shortly after they'd rescued Sam from Zachariah's hit squad and, while Cas had shown up to help them out against the Trickster (Gabriel, actually), this was the first time they'd seen Amitiel since.

Amitiel nodded. "You as well. Though I'm afraid I have some bad news. We need to talk." She looked around. "Preferably somewhere else."

Dean sighed and stowed his shotgun out of sight in his duffel bag. "We can go back to the motel. Come on, the Impala's parked out front."

She nodded again and gestured for them to lead the way. The three of them left the bar. The police hadn't shown up yet, but Sam had no doubt they would, and it would be best if they were gone by then. Amitiel slid into the back seat of the car without being told, settling down in the middle and ignoring the seat belt. Sam glanced at her in the rear view mirror; she was looking back at him. He looked away.

The motel was only a ten-minute drive and Amitiel didn't volunteer any more information on the way, merely gazing solemnly out the windshield. Sam and Dean exchanged uncertain looks but neither of them said anything. Dean because he wasn't that type of person and Sam because things between him and Amitiel had gotten a little...awkward...recently.

The last time they'd spoken, she'd told him she had given him part of her Grace, Marking him so that she could keep track of him: his location, his physical health, even his emotional state. Sam knew it was so she could protect him, but it was a hell of a thing to do without permission.

Once they were in the motel room with the door locked behind them, Amitiel began to pace. Sam took the opportunity to study her. She was wearing different clothes than he'd last seen: a dark red blouse, a khaki jacket, and black jeans. She also looked as if she'd gained a couple of pounds. Both of which meant that Amitiel had been letting Mallory out every once in a while. The first things Mallory always did when she regained control of the body she shared with the angel were to shower, change clothes, and eat something.

"So, you gonna lay it on us?" Dean finally asked. Amitiel stopped pacing and turned to face him, sliding her hands into her back pockets—another gesture she'd learned from the girl whose body she occupied.

"People are dying," she said. "I need your help to stop it."

"We're in the middle of the Apocalypse, Ami," Dean said. "People are dying every day. You need to be more specific."

"David Lloyd, Amanda Carter, Matthew Reid, and Joshua Bishop," Amitiel rattled the names off rapid-fire and gestured to the laptop sitting on the table. "There should be reports on all of them."

Sam and Dean exchanged another look but Sam obediently started up the computer and typed in the names. Dean turned the other chair around, sitting backwards so he could look over his brother's shoulder.

"Holy crap," Sam said a few minutes later, his eyes widening.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"They're all dead," Sam said, and Dean cut him off.

"Yeah, I got that. What's so special about them?"

"Says here they were burned alive in their homes." Sam clicked through another police report. "There was no damage to the houses themselves. No fire." He looked up at the angel. "What's going on, Ami?"

"They're being targeted," she replied shortly. "Killed for a purpose. We need to find out by whom."

"You're sure?" Dean asked, looking from Sam to Amitiel. "How are you sure?"

Amitiel sighed, her shoulders slumping wearily. "Because all of them are vessels, Dean. This cannot be coincidence."

"Vessels," Sam repeated. "Someone's knocking off angel vessels. Okay. Gotta be some demon, right?"

"That is probable," Amitiel replied.

"So you want us to go after some demon with you?" Dean asked, just to be clear. Amitiel nodded, her bangs falling across her eyes. She didn't push them away. "Not to be a smartass or anything, but shouldn't Cas be helping you out with this?" Dean went on.

"Castiel and I decided that one of us should continue the search for our Father at all times," she replied. "Which was why I did not accompany him to investigate your disappearance after Gabriel took you. Though from what Castiel has told me, I'm almost glad I wasn't there." She looked away. "Gabriel and I...never saw eye to eye."

"Yeah," Dean said with a humorless chuckle. "Not to speak badly about your family, but Gabriel's kind of a dick."

"Dean!" Sam muttered sharply, glaring at his older brother. Amitiel looked over at Dean, her expression unreadable.

"All of the archangels are," she deadpanned. "But that is not our present concern. We need to get to Dallas as soon as we can, before the trail gets cold."

"It's gonna be at least a day's drive," Dean said, beginning to pack up their equipment.

Amitiel shook her head. "We don't have that much time."

"If it's all the same to you," Dean replied, "I'd rather not leave my car here for however long this hunt is going to take us."

"That won't be an issue," Amitiel assured him. She shifted her gaze over Dean's shoulder to the window behind Sam. Dean spun around and jumped backwards with a curse. Sam, startled, turned to see what was going on and scrambled to his feet, automatically reaching for the nearby shotgun.

Amitiel gestured to the woman standing by the window. "Sam, you remember Kadmiel. Dean, this is my sister."

Dean looked from the newcomer to Sam. "Wait, you've met?"

Sam nodded. "She was on the hit squad," he replied tersely.

Dean cursed again and spun on Amitiel. "The hell is going on, Ami?" Dean demanded.

Amitiel sighed. "Kadmiel has been assigned to investigate the deaths of the vessels," she explained. "She came to me for help."

"Two weeks ago she was trying to kill you," Dean pointed out. "Why would she want your help?"

"I am not here to harm anyone," Kadmiel finally spoke, her voice soft. "Recent events have...changed my perspective."

Dean eyed the angel warily, jumping slightly when Amitiel placed her hand on his arm. "Please, Dean," she said quietly. "Trust me."

He didn't relax, but still nodded. "Fine. What else you got on this job?"

Kadmiel took a step forward, prompting Sam and Dean to both step backwards. She stopped, her expression unreadable. Reaching into her jacket she pulled something out that glittered in the light. She extended it towards Sam, who took it cautiously.

It was a feather, as long as Sam's forearm. It was a tawny-gold color, throwing off bronze sparks as Sam turned it this way and that. It was far heavier than he had expected, but the barbs were incredibly soft to the touch.

"What is it?" he asked, handing it to Dean with strange reluctance.

"One of those were found beside every body," Kadmiel reported, her voice emotionless.

Dean held the feather up, reflecting a pattern of tiny lights against the far wall. "Still not seeing the significance," he said.

"It's an angel feather," Amitiel told him.

Dean almost dropped it in surprise. "But I thought you said a demon was doing it," he protested.

"It is probable," Amitiel said again. "But whoever is doing it, they are attempting to make it look as if an angel is behind the killings."

Sam took the feather back, running it gently over his fingers. "Are you sure that it _isn't_ an angel?" he asked carefully, glancing between the two women. They exchanged a long look.

"We are almost certain it isn't," Amitiel said slowly.

"Yeah? How?" Dean challenged.

"Because, Dean," Amitiel said coolly. "That feather is from _my_ wings."


	2. Chapter 2

The body lay in the middle of the living room floor, muscles and skin burned to ashes. The carpet below the corpse was pristine, unmarked. The house was empty and quiet, unmolested by the city outside.

"Her name is Erin Black," Amitiel explained, dropping her hands from the brothers' shoulders. "We discovered her death directly before we came to see you. We have touched nothing."

Dean went straight towards the body while Sam began looking around. Kadmiel was off somewhere else, much to Dean's relief. The other angel had, according to Amitiel, transported the Impala to the parking lot of a suitable motel. Dean wasn't happy about it, but he had no choice but take Ami's word that the car was fine.

As Dean crouched beside the body, he caught sight of something glimmering among the charred ribcage. Grimacing, her reached in to retrieve the feather. This one was slightly shorter than the one Kadmiel had shown them, and more bronze than gold. "Got another one," he announced, holding it up. Amitiel walked over to retrieve it, slipping it into her jacket without a word.

Sam came back into the living room, pocketing his EMF meter. "I'm not getting anything," he said huffily. "No EMF, no sulfur, no forced entry. Whoever this is, they are covering their tracks."

"Fantastic," Dean muttered, getting to his feet. "Okay. So what's our next move?"

"Talk to the victim's family?" Sam suggested. "See if anything weird happened before she died?"

"Sounds like a plan," Dean agreed. "Ami, you mind getting us to that motel?"

She stepped forward, placing one hand on Dean's arm and the other against Sam's chest. Before Dean had the chance to blink, they were somewhere else. Was it bad that he was getting used to his ass being dragged back and forth by the angels?

The motel was decent enough, clean and neat with bland décor and two full-sized beds. The TV actually looked less than five years old, which was a plus, and there were no cigarette smoke stains on the ceiling. Their bags were on the floor at the end of each bed, and when Dean moved the curtains aside, the Impala was waiting by the door, unharmed. Unsatisfied by a visual check, Dean went out to examine his beloved vehicle.

"What's Kadmiel doing?" Sam asked, getting his computer out.

"Searching for signs of demons," Amitiel replied. She remained where she had landed in front of the TV. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. "You wished to know about Erin Black?"

"Yeah, I'm looking her up right now," Sam said, settling in.

"She was twenty-one," the girl said softly. "She was attending school at Keller University. She went to church every Sunday. Her boyfriend of two years asked her to marry him on Christmas Eve. The wedding was supposed to be next summer."

Sam looked up slowly to stare at the young woman on the other side of the room. The signs were incredibly subtle, but Sam had trained himself to notice every one. Her eyes seemed to be lighter, younger, but no less weary. The lines of her face were softer, and her voice had climbed half an octave.

"Hi, Mallory," he said quietly.

Mallory Graves gave him a brief, tired smile. "Hi, Sam."

For a moment they stood staring at each other. "You okay?" Sam finally asked. Mallory shrugged and Sam was reminded how much body language Amitiel had mimicked.

"It gets hard," she said. "You see so many people get hurt and... you forget that they're just people, too." She looked down at the floor and back up at Sam's face. "She's a vessel, just like me. Going to school, had a boyfriend, a family. Just like me. She's only a year older than me." Her pale brows drew together. "I can't help thinking, you know, that she could have been the one standing here with Amitiel in her skin and I could have been the one dead."

Sam got back to his feet and crossed over to her. He hesitated for a moment and then put his hand on her shoulder. "If I told you that it happens, that we all have jobs that hit harder than others, would it help?"

She looked up at him ruefully. "Not really. You've been doing this your whole life, Sam. Me? Two months ago I was normal."

He squeezed her shoulder. "It'll get better," he said lamely.

"Liar," Mal accused, but she spoke with a smirk. She reached up to touch the hand resting on her shoulder. "I missed you," she said hesitantly, searching his face carefully.

"Yeah. Me, too," Sam replied. And then, because Dean was still outside and away from visual range, he stooped to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Glad you're back." He went to sit back down, and Mallory followed him to look over his shoulder, one hand on the back of his chair and the other propped against the table. Sam didn't comment on the faint blush of pink that crept over her cheekbones.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, pretending to be absorbed in the computer.

"We'll start with her friends, family, and neighbors. Try to see if we can find anything that stands out," Sam explained.

"And then cross-check it with the other victims?" Mal suggested. Sam nodded.

"Exactly."

"So you and Dean actually work like real cops on these hunts, huh? Lots of research before any of the fun stuff happens?"

Sam looked at her in surprise. "Haven't we done this with you before?"

"Uh-uh," she replied, shaking her head. "My hunts with you guys have generally involved a lot of running away really fast and getting beat up." She poked him in the shoulder. "Remember when we fell off that building? Good times."

Sam huffed. "I forget you haven't been around for that long," he said apologetically. "Hey, this is interesting... Erin Black had a roommate until last week, a girl named Jenny Smith. She had her name taken off the apartment lease and...get this, filed a complaint against Erin."

"That's a little weird," Mallory said. "Maybe worth checking out?"

"Maybe," Sam agreed.

Dean came back into the motel, kicking the door shut behind him. "Police just found that last chick's body," he announced. "They announced it on the radio. They're saying they've got a serial killer on their hands."

Sam got to his feet, closing his computer. "We're gonna go talk to her former roommate," he told Dean. "Why don't you start at the beginning with the first victim?" He glanced at Mallory with a questioning look.

"David Lloyd," she supplied.

"Yeah. See what you can dig up about him."

Dean shrugged. "It's as good a place to start as any. Hey, you bring back some food when you're done? I'm starving." He started to turn away, stopped, and took a second look at the girl. "Oh, hey, Mal. What's up?"

"The Apocalypse," she deadpanned in reply.

"Yeah?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Hadn't heard. You kids have fun."

XxxXxxX

They sweet-talked their way into Jenny Smith's new apartment by claiming to be Erin Black's cousins. Though Mallory was in control of her body, she could feel Amitiel hovering just behind her consciousness, watching through her eyes and extending her senses toward the woman fluttering anxiously around the tiny living room.

"This is awful," Jenny prattled. "Just awful. I can't believe it. I mean, I just saw her last night when I went to get the last of my stuff and everything looked fine. She was fine, you know. You never think it could happen to someone you know. One minute they're fine and you're arguing with them over the last water bill and the next minute they're _dead_ and she still owes me for half of last month's rent—"

"Jenny," Sam interrupted her monologue as politely as he could. Mallory screwed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. A headache was building behind her eyes as it always did now when Amitiel used her powers while Mallory was in charge.

"_I'm sorry,"_ the angel murmured from within.

_Don't worry about it,_ Mallory replied shortly. _Just keep working. We need this information._

Amitiel brushed against Mallory, sending tendrils of warmth spreading through the girl's mind and body. When Amitiel had first come to Mallory, she'd been like broken pieces of burning glass: sharp and hot and painful. Now that the angel had healed, she burned like the sun inside of Mallory's skull: warm and comforting but too bright to look at.

Turning her attention away from the angel, Mallory tuned back into the conversation taking place around her.

"—Anything strange, or unusual?" Sam was asking.

Jenny hesitated. "I know she's your family and all, and you never should speak bad about the dead, but..."

"Go on," Sam encouraged.

"The last couple of weeks before I moved out, she started acting all crazy," Jenny said, leaning forward. Her eyes were bright with excitement, eager for the opportunity to share the gossip. "She was always something of a prude. You know, church every week, never went out to the clubs with the girls on the weekends. But then she went overboard! She started saying how we were all sinners and we had to repent because the end of the world was coming, and that the angels had chosen her for a greater purpose. I walked into the kitchen on her and she was holding her hand over the stove top. With the flame on!" Jenny put her hands up. "I couldn't stand it after that. I had to get out of there."

Mallory and Sam exchanged a significant look. "Did you notice anyone hanging around Erin that wasn't there before?" Sam asked. "Someone who might have...unsettled you? Made you nervous?"

"Oh, no," Jenny said. "Erin was always the good girl. She never hung around with anyone like that. She was all with the Bible clubs at school and her church groups." She paused as if a thought had struck her. "But there was this one thing..."

"Yes?" Sam prompted.

"It was right after Erin went all wacky. I was in my room, you know, and I'd just looked out the window and I saw this person standing across the street. I could have sworn she was watching our apartment."

"She?" Mallory spoke for the first time since entering Jenny's apartment, frowning at the woman.

"It was dark and I didn't see her face, but it was definitely a woman," Jenny said with a nod. "I called the police but they didn't find anything. Said it was just a creep, you know?"

Sam and Mal thanked Jenny and made their escape few minutes later. The sun had finally set, and some of the Texas heat was beginning to leach off. Sam looked as if he regretted his flannel shirt, but thanks to Amitiel, Mallory felt no discomfort under her jacket and long-sleeved blouse.

"An angel had already contacted Erin when she was killed," Mallory said abruptly. "Had already started...courting Erin, I guess you could say. It's usually an extended process, with the angel contacting the vessel, talking to them, testing them." She rubbed her forehead again. Her acceptance of Amitiel had been a split-second decision as the both of them were desperate and dying.

"And the woman watching their apartment?" Sam asked. "Couldn't have been the angel. If it already had a body, why would it need Erin? I'm thinking she may be our demon."

"Maybe," Mallory agreed.

"Did Amitiel come up with anything from Jenny?" Sam turned to look at her just as she massaged her temple. "You okay?"

"Headache," she explained tersely. "Not much. She wasn't lying or hiding anything. Her soul was intact and belonged to her, and there was no demonic presence anywhere that Ami could sense."

Sam nodded. "Hopefully Dean will be able to turn up something on the others," he said. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sam caught Mallory when she stumbled and almost fell, holding her upright until he was sure she wouldn't collapse.

"I'm fine," she said, gently freeing herself from his grasp.

"Liar," he accused, parroting her word back to him. "Mal, tell me what's going on."

Mal sighed and looked down. "I...it's getting harder and harder for Ami to let me out," she said after a long hesitation. And when she's in control, it's difficult for me to stay awake. It's like she's taking over, Sam, and we can't seem to stop it." She looked up at him. "In the past two weeks, this is the second time I've been in control. That's all we've been able to handle. It's everything Ami can do to hold herself back."

Sam stared at her, working his jaw back and forth. He ran his fingers through his hair, unsure of what he should say. If there was anything he _could_ say. They needed Amitiel. To be completely truthful, they needed Amitiel more than they needed Mallory. But he still hated the idea of losing the young woman, bit by bit.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, because he had to say it.

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Yeah," he sighed. Then, quite deliberately, he engulfed her slim hand in his much-larger one. "We'd better pick up that food for Dean or he's gonna bitch about it all night. What do you feel like?"

Mallory smiled wanly. "I hear the Mexican food is good around here."

XxxXxxX

When Dean returned to the motel somewhere close to midnight, he was immediately confronted by the sound of Mallory giggling. He stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of the young woman nearly falling out of her chair, she was laughing so hard. He tried to remember the last time he heard her laugh and couldn't.

"It wasn't funny!" Sam protested indignantly. "He had us trapped!"

Mallory fought to contain herself, failed, and burst out into another gale of laughter. "Herpexia?" she gasped. "Seriously?"

Dean closed the door with a loud thud, striding into the room and toward the white bags of take-out on the table. "You telling her about our trip to TV-land, Sammy?" he asked, peering into the bag and brightening at the sight of foil-wrapped burritos.

Mallory turned to look at him, tears of mirth shining in her eyes. "Did Sam really turn into the Impala?" she asked between stuttering breaths.

"It was full on Knight Rider," Dean confirmed, unwrapping his burrito. "He tell you about the Japanese game show?"

"Dean!" Sam said, his voice laden with exasperation.

Mallory wrapped her arms around her ribcage as if to stifle the laughter once more bubbling up from her chest. "That is funniest thing I have heard in weeks," she said at length, finally regaining control of herself. "I almost wish I had seen it myself."

"It wasn't funny," Sam muttered again, taking a savage bite of his own wrap. Mallory reached across the table and poked him in the shoulder.

"Yes, it is," she said, grinning at him. "You were the Impala. You were a talking car. Aw, c'mon, Sam," she went on at the sight of his expression. "You were like a Transformer or something. That is awesome!"

"It felt weird," Sam huffed, crumpling tin foil into a ball.

Mallory, perhaps taking pity on Sam, let the topic drop and turned to Dean. "So, what'd you find on Lloyd?"

Dean swallowed his mouthful of Mexican deliciousness and shoved another bite into his mouth. "Found by his mother-in-law," he said with his mouth full. "Wife said they never saw anything strange but they noticed a prowler a couple of days before he got smoked. Snooped around with the EMF but didn't pick anything up."

"There was a prowler outside of Erin's apartment, too," Sam said. "We were thinking it was the demon we're after."

A sudden breeze blew the napkins off the table and three heads snapped up, instantly alert. Kadmiel stood by the bathroom door. There was a long tear down the sleeve of her leather jacket, which she examined with an annoyed expression. She ran her fingertips along it, sealing it up as she went.

"What happened?" the girl asked, and Dean looked over at her. Mallory was gone without a trace, Amitiel firmly in her place. Sam was watching the blonde angel with a strangely wistful look on his face.

"I stumbled across a hellhound in my search for the killer," Kadmiel replied dismissively.

"Hellhound?" Dean echoed, unable to hide the revulsion in his voice. Kadmiel made a dismissive gesture.

"It is taken care of," she said. "You mentioned a prowler outside of Erin Black's home?"

"Yeah," Sam said slowly, tearing his gaze away from Amitiel. "And another one outside Lloyd's."

"An angel had begun making overtures to Erin Black when she was killed," Amitiel said, getting to her feet, leaving behind Mallory's unfinished food. "It may be useful to know which angel it was."

"All of the vessels belonged to different angels," Kadmiel replied. "There is no pattern to these attacks. It is as if they are simply trying to limit our numbers on earth by eliminating as many vessels as possible."

"It is an effective plan," Amitiel pointed out. "If we do not stop it here, it may spread."

Kadmiel nodded in agreement. "I have heard whispers there is a dark power in this city, a representative of Hell. The creatures you call 'monsters' are fearful, uneasy."

"That's not a good sign," Dean said dryly. "Anyone whispering a name?"

"Astaroth," Kadmiel replied curtly, fixing him with a flat stare.

Amitiel made an unhappy noise and Dean and Sam twisted to look at her questioningly. "Astaroth is fanatically loyal to Lucifer," she explained. "She was one of Lilith's greatest allies during the breaking of the seals." She exhaled sharply through her nose. "And she will not be alone."


	3. Chapter 3

"Awesome," Dean said into the silence, getting out of his chair. He began to pace along the window, running his fingers through his hair. Amitiel watched him unblinkingly. The human appeared to have aged several years. For a moment Amitiel wished Castiel was here. Her brother was much better at dealing with Dean than she was.

Dean rubbed his chin and finally turned to face the others. "So. What next?"

"I propose," Kadmiel began. Dean glared at her and she held up a hand. "Please, Dean. I understand that you hold no love for me..."

"I wasn't gonna put it that nicely," Dean snarked back. "You kidnapped my brother."

"It was not my decision," Kadmiel said coolly.

"You _kidnapped_ my _brother_," Dean said again. "You tried to kill my friends. You have no points with me."

"Dean," Sam interrupted softly. Dean shot him the "shut up, Sam" look but Sam kept going. "For what it's worth, Kadmiel actually kept Haamiah from hurting me."

Dan glanced quickly between the angel and his brother. Amitiel chose to remain silent, knowing that Dean would come to a decision on his own, and there was little she could do to influence it. He finally spun to face her and she met his gaze. "You trust her?" he demanded. "Even though she tried to gank you?"

Amitiel and Castiel had agreed not to tell the Winchesters that Kadmiel had, in fact, killed Haamiah to save their lives. "Yes," was all she said out loud. Dean didn't look happy, but he seemed to accept that.

"Fine," he grumbled. "What were you going to 'propose?'"

Kadmiel waited a moment, and then with a glance at her sister, continued. "There are several more vessels in this city. From what you said, it appears as if Astaroth visits the vessels before she kills them."

"If we can figure out which one's seen her we know which one is next to go," Dean jumped in, nodding. "Right. What are the names?"

Kadmiel reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, walking over to place it on the table. Sam reached over to pluck it up, smoothing it out with gentle fingers. He frowned thoughtfully and his lips moved slightly as he read. Amitiel tilted her head, watching him closely. She blinked when she caught herself staring at his mouth and looked away. Unfortunately her avoidant gaze caught Kadmiel's and her sister raised a knowing eyebrow. Amitiel stared resolutely out the window.

Sam looked up, sliding the list toward his brother. "We'd get through the list faster if we split up," he suggested.

"Fine," Dean agreed. "You and me will take the top half," here he ripped the list into two pieces and handed one to Amitiel. "And the angels will take the bottom half. If we find anything, we'll call. Oh, and you might want to let Mal back out for this one," Dean added.

Amitiel managed to keep her face neutral but Sam winced behind Dean's back. "I'll take that under consideration," Amitiel replied flatly. She glanced down at the list in her hands, scanning through the list. Then she looked over at Kadmiel. "We should go."

They both shifted themselves directly outside the home of the first vessel on the list, shuffling their wings back into place. Kadmiel's wings were gleaming chestnut, perfect and unmarred. Thin scars spread out like spiderwebs through the tawny-gold pinions of Amitiel's wings, and here and there a feather was still missing, revealing the delicate skin beneath. She tried not feel ashamed of her condition, pointedly refusing to stare at Kadmiel's wings.

"Who is Mal?" Kadmiel asked, turning to look down at the shorter angel.

"My vessel," Amitiel replied shortly. Kadmiel gave her a startled look.

"You allow your vessel to take control?"

"On the occasion," Amitiel told her stiffly. "When it is necessary to interact with humans without revealing my true nature." Then, ignoring her sister, Amitiel closed her eyes and reached deep within herself. She had to reach farther than she had before.

"_Mallory? Mallory, child, I need you to wake up."_

Mallory's presence stirred sluggishly but did not rouse. Amitiel prodded her gently, allowing a small portion of Grace to flow over the girl. Mallory jerked as if electrocuted and came gasping awake. _What? Ami? What's going on?_

"_We are going to question the vessels if they have seen Astaroth,"_ Amitiel explained. _"Dean suggested that you be the one to speak with the humans...seeing as you have more experience."_

_Oh. Right. Yeah._

The transition was not as smooth as it had been in the past. It felt as if Mallory was squeezing herself into a space far too small for her. She swayed as her body once more fell under her control and almost stumbled, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her from falling. She opened her eyes.

The woman standing beside her was at least six inches taller than her, with dark, smooth skin and curly hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes studied Mallory without expression. "Mallory, I presume," she said in a rich voice.

"Yeah," Mallory replied. She narrowed her eyes at the woman. "Please don't touch me."

Kadmiel instantly released Mallory's shoulder and Mallory took a step backwards. "Look, I know Ami trusts you and everything," Mallory said warily. "But I don't. So... I don't know. Just please stay away from me."

The angel tilted her head and Mallory instantly hated it because it reminded her of Cas or Ami. "As you wish," was all Kadmiel said. Mallory took a deep breath and turned on her heel, walking toward the front door of the house in front of her. She knocked sharply and looked over her shoulder to see that Kadmiel had remained on the sidewalk.

When the door swung open, Mallory turned to face the man peering quizzically at her. "Hi, Mr. Robinson? My name is Mallory, I live down the street. I was wondering if you'd possibly seen anyone strange hanging around here at night? Possibly a woman? There's been reports of a prowler."

XxxXxxX

"Hi, my name is Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We're with the neighborhood watch," Sam said for what felt like the millionth time. "We've heard some reports of a prowler and we were wondering if you'd seen anything."

The woman standing in the doorway behind the screen door was in her early forties, a stately woman more handsome than beautiful. According to the list, her name was Anastasia Lucas, and she had three teenage daughters, all also on the list of vessels. She frowned at the two brothers on her front porch.

"Yes, actually," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "My girl, Ashley, saw a woman standing outside her bedroom window last night."

"Was she able to get a good look at her?" Dean asked, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam.

Anastasia jerked her head down in a sharp nod and pushed the screen door open. "She did. We called the police, but they said they couldn't do anything about it. You'll get the description out to the rest of the neighborhood?"

"That's our job, ma'am," Sam told her respectfully, stepping into the entryway. Anastasia led them down the hall into a spacious living room, waving toward the couch in invitation.

"Ash!" she called toward the stairs. "Ashley!"

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and a girl no older than fifteen flung herself into the room, skidding to a halt in front of her mother. She was wearing a blue track suit with a flaming soccer ball emblazoned on the back. "What?" she demanded irritably. "Mrs. Jackson is gonna pick me up any minute."

Anastasia gestured toward the Winchesters. "This is Sam and Dean with the neighborhood watch. Tell them about the woman you saw last night."

Ashley shrugged. "She was standing right outside the window like she was looking in. It was creepy. By the time I went and got Mom, she was gone."

"Can you tell us what she looked like?" Sam asked.

The girl shrugged again. "Tall, I guess. Dark hair. I think she had dark eyes, too, but it was hard to tell. She was wearing a black leather jacket and boots."

"Did you notice anything else about her?" Sam pressed. He gave Ashley the full force of his earnest, innocent expression, and she melted predictably.

"Well, there was this...sound," she said slowly, glancing at her mother.

"What kind of sound?" Sam encouraged.

"Growling," Ashley replied softly. A car honked outside and she jumped. "Gotta go!" She darted out the room, snatching up a duffel bag on her way out. Anastasia spread her hands in apology.

"You know kids these days," she said.

Sam nodded and offered his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Lucas. You've been very helpful. We'll do our best to take care of this."

Once they were back on the sidewalk and out of sight of the house, Sam and Dean slowed to a halt. "Think it's her?" Sam asked his brother.

"I don't believe in coincidences," Dean replied. He cleared his throat, looked up at the sky, and then began awkwardly, "Uh...Ami, I think we found who Astaroth is going after next, so if you could—"

He was cut off by the sound of disturbed feathers and the two angels appeared beside them. Amitiel had materialized bare inches from Sam, causing him to jump and flinch away. She glanced up at him in silent apology.

"Who?" she asked without preamble.

"Anastasia Lucas and her three daughters," Dean replied, hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward the house down the street. "They saw her last night."

"The attack will come soon, then," Kadmiel said, narrowing her eyes as she gazed toward the house. "We should wait until Astaroth returns for the kill and ambush her then."

Dean looked over at Amitiel. "You down with that plan?"

"It seems to be the most feasible," she replied.

"One more thing," Sam spoke up. "She might have Hellhounds with her."

Dean pulled a face and Amitiel wrinkled her nose, hunching her shoulders. Sam felt a soft breeze ruffle his air as the faint sound of shuffling feathers reached his ears. It hadn't been so long ago that a pair of Hellhounds had savaged the angel's wings, and the memories still appeared to be painful for her.

"We can handle Hellhounds," Kadmiel said confidently. "This ends tonight."

XxxXxxX

Neither Dean nor Sam reacted when Amitiel appeared in the backseat of the Impala. They were parked down the street from the Lucas house but still had an unobstructed view. Amitiel leaned forward and handed first Sam, and then Dean cardboard cups of coffee, followed by a box of pastries.

"Have you seen anything?" she asked, allowing herself to choose one of the pastries when Sam offered it to her. Thanks to Mallory and the Winchester brothers, she had begun to appreciate what enjoyment could be garnered from food.

"Nope," Dean said, taking a long, grateful drink of his coffee. He turned to look over his shoulder at the angel. She nibbled on an apple danish: Mal's favorite. "How about you?"

She shook her head. "It has been quiet." She finished the last bite of the danish and licked icing from her fingers. "There is the possibility that Astaroth won't attack tonight."

"She waited almost a week before going after Erin Black," Sam pointed out.

"Great," Dean muttered. "So what, we just sit out here waiting for something to happen?"

"Astaroth has concealed her presence too well," Amitiel said with a shrug. "We can't track her. This appears to be our best choice."

Dean grumbled incoherently and took another drink of his coffee. The radio suddenly squealed on and a gust of wind blew down the street as the streetlamps flickered wildly. Dean slowly put his coffee cup down. "Hey Sam," he said quietly. "Remind you of anything?"

"Yeah," Sam replied tightly. He opened the car door and unfolded out of the passenger seat. Dean met him at the trunk and they pulled their shotguns and the demon-killing knife out of the hidden compartment. Amitiel waited a couple paces down the sidewalk, her sword in one hand.

Together, the three of them paced cautiously down the street, alert for any sign of danger. They heard the first scream just as they approached the Lucas house. They broke out into a run at the same time, Amitiel pulling ahead despite her shorter legs. She bounded up onto the porch and flung out her hand, blasting the front door open with a bang. Dean cocked his shotgun as he followed her into the house, going back-to-back with Sam to cover all of the doorways.

Amitiel plunged straight up the stairs, Sam and Dean racing to stay behind her. The angel burst into master bedroom and, without hesitating, lunged toward the shadowy figure standing by the window. Anastasia was pinned against the opposite wall, her feet off the ground. Her eyes were wide and frightened, her mouth working but no sound emerged.

Amitiel's sword reflected the moonlight as she swung it towards the demon. An invisible force struck her broadside, slamming her to the ground. She struggled to get up but couldn't rise. "Ami!" Sam yelled, snapping his shotgun up. Just before he pulled the trigger, the demon extended one hand and gestured sharply. Sam flew one direction and his shotgun flew in another.

"Dammit," Dean spat, dodging to the side. He glanced over at Amitiel but she was still on the floor, her hands braced as if to raise herself up. Dean's shotgun was suddenly ripped from his hands and a massive blow struck his chest, flinging him backwards. He thudded against the wall and tried to stand. An invisible grip tightened around his throat and dragged him, choking to his feet. Through his blurring vision, he saw the demon step out of the shadows.

A horribly familiar voice purred, "Hello, Dean. Fancy meeting you here."


	4. Chapter 4

"Meg," Dean gritted through clenched teeth. She grinned at him and slunk closer, stepping around Amitiel as she did. The demon glanced up at the ceiling and Dean followed her gaze. Directly above the angel, a sigil had been burned into the ceiling. Just looking at it made Dean's skin crawl.

"So glad you guys could make it," Meg went on. "I was beginning to think I wasn't obvious enough for you two brain-dead bozos. I mean, come on, how many feathers from your little angel friend did it take before you caught on?"

"You set this up?" Dean managed to croak out through the grip on his throat.

She reached him and patted his cheek fondly. "Of course I did. And what a good plan it was, too. I get to knock off angel vessels _and_ the Winchesters fall right into my lap. Am I a clever girl or what?"

Amitiel tried again to stand and once more failed, her fists clenched against the carpet. "Astaroth," she growled in a dangerous voice. "You harm them and I will destroy you."

"No you won't!" Meg sang out with another cruel smile. "I got you in an angel trap, Tinkerbell. Bet you didn't see that coming. You aren't going anywhere." She turned around in a full circle, eyes roaming over Sam's still form and Anastasia still pinned against the wall. "Why don't we get this out of the way?" She walked over and slapped her hand against Anastasia's forehead.

Dean turned away, the sick feeling of failure heavy in his stomach as the woman burned. When Meg finally let the charred corpse fall to the ground, the demon giggled. "Now we can get down to real business. You boys."

She cocked her hip, placing one fist at her waist and shaking her head at Dean. "You are so much more trouble than you're worth, Dean-o. You know how many times my father has sent demons after you? Of course, they were all completely incompetent clouds of filth, so you shouldn't take that as a complement." She spread her arms. "But now, he's finally sent someone who can actually get the job done. Me." She giggled again. "And this time you're not gonna be able to throw me off a building."

Meg turned and walked back over to Amitiel, who was trembling now, head to foot. The demon leaned over her, placing one hand in between the angel's shoulder blades, and began to chant in a low voice. Dean struggled against Meg's hold on him, straining uselessly to get free.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Leave her alone, you bitch. This is between us, not her!"

Meg completely ignored him, continuing her chant without stopping. Amitiel arched her back, her face tight in pain. Light began gathering in her eyes and mouth, shining bright in the darkness. Meg's chanting became louder, triumphant, and the light grew stronger. Shadows like great wings unfolded on the wall behind the angel, quivering and twitching with restless movement.

Kadmiel struck Meg across the back of the head, flinging the demon across the room. The angel stabbed a finger upwards and the ceiling cracked straight through the sigil. Amitiel spun to her feet and staggered, nearly falling over.

Mag glared darkly at the two angels. "That's just cheating," she complained.

"Release them, now," Kadmiel ordered.

"Make me," Meg taunted, and flung her hand out at Amitiel. There was a deep, bubbling snarl and long gashes appeared in the carpet. Amitiel cried out and was once more knocked off her feet. Blood sprayed on the wall and Ami screamed, high-pitched and frantic.

Kadmiel barked something in Enochian and lunged for her sister, silver sword flashing. In that moment, Dean's world went dark.

XxxXxxX

The Hellhound was dead within seconds, but that had been long enough for the demon to vanish with the Winchesters. Amitiel sat propped against the wall, her left wing stretched out at an awkward angle. Blood dripped from a crescent-shaped wound near the elbow joint, and the sharp end of fragile bones poked through the skin.

Kadmiel stepped over the body of the hound and knelt beside Amitiel, stowing her sword away. She reached out toward the wound and Amitiel fought to keep herself still when her sister applied too much pressure. Under Kadmiel's hands, the broken bones slowly moved back into place and the skin sealed itself up.

As soon as she was healed, Amitiel transported herself across the room and to her feet, standing with her wings raised in a defensive posture, meant to make herself look larger than she was. "Tell me you didn't know," she growled, her fists clenched at her sides.

Kadmiel stared at her in confusion. "Know what?"

"That Astaroth had history with the Winchesters. Tell me you didn't know this was a trap."

The other angel spread her hands. "How could I have possibly known that?"

"So you didn't allow me to involve the Winchesters because you knew they would draw her out?" Amitiel demanded.

"If you recall, I was against involving the Winchesters at all," Kadmiel replied sharply, her voice hot. "This was neither my doing nor my intention."

Amitiel abruptly slumped, her wings slouching to the ground. She fluttered them weakly and another feather drifted free.

Kadmiel glared darkly at the feather and flicked her fingers at it. It crumbled to dust instantly, exactly she had done to all the others. "She has your feathers," Kadmiel said, highly displeased. "There is no telling what she will do with them."

"We have to find Dean and Sam," Amitiel said wearily. Kadmiel walked over to the shorter angel and reached out to run her fingers lightly through her feathers, straightening and preening as she went. Amitiel leaned into the touch, her wings going completely limp. It had been too long since her wings had had such attention.

Kadmiel continued gently stroking and smoothing Amitiel's feathers, her fingertips lingering over the thin, pale scars. She did not expend any more healing energy, however. When she was finally done, Amitiel sighed faintly and folded her wings back into place.

"Is your mind clear, now?" Kadmiel asked.

"Yes," Amitiel replied.

"Will you be able to locate Sam Winchester?"

Amitiel nodded. "Yes," she said again.

XxxXxxX

When Dean came to and found himself tied to a metal pillar, the first thing he did was not to test his bonds. It was, of course, to look for Sam. His brother was about five feet to his left, also seated on the floor with his hands tied around a metal pillar behind him. Sam's chin rested against his chest, his hair falling over his face.

"Sam," Dean hissed. "Hey. Sam!"

"Oh, don't worry about little Sammy."

Dean growled when Meg walked into view. The room was concrete-walled and lit by several bare bulbs, indicating something industrial in nature. Meg grinned at him. "He's taking a little nap. We want him to be all rested and ready for later."

"What the hell do you think you're gonna do to him?" Dean snarled, leaning forward aggressively despite the protests from both shoulders.

Meg waggled a finger at him. "Patience is a virtue, Dean-o. Besides, you should be more concerned with what I'm about to do to you right now."

He snarled wordlessly at her and she laughed, crouching right in front of him. "Aren't you just the charmer," she mocked, running her fingers along his cheek. He turned his face away from her touch. "Always so good with the ladies. Oh, Dean. Shame I never got a piece of you while you were Below."

Dean refused to rise to her bait, refused to let her affect him despite the warring feelings of dread and rage in his gut. Meg had had it out for them from the very beginning. She was smart and cruel and above all, vengeful. And he'd exorcised her once or twice.

"So," he said instead. "Your real name is Astaroth."

"That's what Daddy calls me," she replied, rocking back on her heels. "But I like Meg. More to the point, if you know what I mean."

"Why are you killing the vessels?" Dean ground out, grasping at anything to keep her distracted until Amitiel showed up. Because he knew she would. After all, Sam was her Marked. She couldn't _not_ rescue him.

Meg shrugged. "Why not?" She raised her index finger. "Fewer vessels, fewer angels." A second finger joined the first. "If I frame your friend, Heaven may just decide she's more trouble than she's worth and smite the shit out of her." A third finger made an appearance. "And if I frame your friend, you and dear little Sammy come running to clear her name." She giggled again. "I'm just not seeing a downside to this plan."

"How about where the angels rip you to pieces?" Dean growled.

"Really?" Meg pretended to be shocked, placing a hand on her chest. "Oh my. I didn't even think about that." Her expression became disdainful. "I've covered this whole place in anti-angel wards, dipshit. They're not getting anywhere near you."

Dean's heart sank. Meg had had them in this position before, but this time there weren't any handy daevas to drag her out a seventh-story window. Meg got to her feet and prowled over to Sam. She struck him across the face hard enough to snap his head to the side. He jerked up, banging the back of his head against the post he was tied to.

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy!" Meg sang out cheerfully. "I got a surprise for you."

Sam spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and squinted up at the demon. "Hello, Meg," he said resignedly. Meg reached down, grabbed his chin, and crushed her mouth against his. Dean saw Sam's whole body convulse as he tried unsuccessfully to recoil away from the demon. Meg released Sam and stepped back, raising her hand to reveal Ruby's demon-killing knife.

"Handy little toy, isn't it?" she said, turning it this way and that. "You know, Ruby was quite good, wasn't she, Sammy? Playing the whole tortured soul card, pretending to be your friend. And you just ate it right out of her hand." She spun the knife through her fingers expertly and stuck it through her belt. "You really are pathetic, both of you. You can't even see it when you get played."

"Look, are we done with the whole 'mock your prisoners' crap?" Dean interrupted irritably. "Because that got old, like, in Biblical times."

Meg seemed to consider that. "Yeah. You're right. I guess I'll skip right to the torture, then." She clawed her hand at Sam with a sudden snarl. Sam arched in pain, a silted groan forced through his teeth as his skin blanched white.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean snarled. "What the hell do you want?"

Meg turned to glare at him from inky-black eyes. "I want you to bleed."

XxxXxxX

"I don't understand demons' fondness for abandoned buildings," Kadmiel replied, studying the building in front of them with narrow eyes. Amitiel pressed her lips together.

"Neither do I."

From the outside, the building did, indeed, appear abandoned, with no indication it was occupied. But this was where the Mark had led Amitiel. She could feel Sam's heart beat against her Grace, fast and uneven. Physical pain blossomed from the Mark; it felt as if something was tearing up her internal organs.

"She is torturing them," Amitiel told her sister tersely.

"It is a trap," Kadmiel told her. "You saw the sigil she used on you earlier. She has no doubt warded the place against us."

Amitiel clenched her fists. "We have to get in there," she insisted. "Sam is my Marked, Kadmiel. I cannot stand by and let him be harmed."

Kadmiel placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know," she said softly. "We just have to find a way in."

Amitiel blinked. "No doubt she has warded the place against us," she echoed Kadmiel's previous words. Kadmiel blinked at her in confusion.

"Yes," she said slowly.

Amitiel slowly relaxed. "She has warded the place against _us_," she said again. "But not humans."

"Of course," Kadmiel said, still not understanding. "She would have had to get the Winchesters inside."

"Then a human shall get _us_ inside," Amitiel told her with a triumphant smile. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating her will and Grace.

"_Mallory. Mallory, I need you."_

Mallory's reply sounded as if it came from very far away. _What do you need me to do?_

Amitiel explained everything and Mallory laughed a little. _You're pretty sneaky for an angel,_ the human girl said. _Okay. I'm ready._

The girl's body was suddenly enveloped in pure, white light cocooning around her in a brilliant halo. Her hair whipped around her face and her clothing fluttered in an unseen wind until the light died and the girl went down on her knees, catching herself from face-planting with both hands. Kadmiel dropped down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She withdrew the hand almost immediately.

Mallory struggled to her feet and took a slow, deep breath. Inside her, the place that Amitiel normally occupied felt cold and empty, like a piece of her own soul was missing. She looked down at her right hand where Amitiel's sword rested, her fingers clenched around the hilt. Her gaze traveled up to meet Kadmiel's "I need you to do me a favor."

Two minutes later, Mallory slipped into the building as silently as she could, her eyes darting around the darkened area. It was some sort of lobby or atrium, with concrete walls and steel doors at the far end. Sure enough, the entire far wall was aglow with anti-angel wards. Mallory stood in the middle of the lobby, her gaze roaming over the wards. Kadmiel had temporarily opened her eyes, letting her See things that only existed in the spirit world. Finding what she was looking for, Mallory crossed over to the wall, heading for a specific sigil near the bottom right-hand side of the wall. A hissing growl stopped her dead in her tracks. Mallory slowly turned around, making no sudden moves, and her eyes widened as her blood turned to ice water in her veins.

A Hellhound stood not ten feet away from her. Mallory's stomach tried to disgorge its contents just at the sight of it, her heart stuttering in her chest. It was a good four feet high at the shoulder, covered in blood-colored scales. Its face was a mass of bulbous protrusions and multiple red eyes glowed angrily at her. Its mouth was filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth that dripped venomous saliva.

"Good doggie?" Mal said in a high, squeaky voice, her mind flinching away from the horror of the beast and fleeing into mania. The hound growled again and scraped its forefoot against the ground, its claws scraping gouges into the concrete floor. Mallory's eyes slid to the wall, calculating distances. The Hellhound crouched, tail lashing the air.

They moved at the same time, the hound lunging for Mallory and the girl darting toward the wall, the angel-sword lifted over her head. She felt the hound's claws catch her shoulders and drag down her back. She screamed in pain and terror and plunged the sword into the wall with all her strength. The blade pierced the sigil and it exploded in a flash of light and sparks. The rest of the sigils flashed out of existence and Mallory collapsed to the ground, her vision whiting out as the fall jarred her injuries.

Then Amitiel returned.

It was like exploding in reverse. All of the light and fire and glory rushed into her until she was filled to the brim with it. The wounds on her back sealed themselves up and wings burst from her shoulders, immediately arching protectively over her body. She was on her feet in an instant, except it wasn't _her_ anymore, it was Amitiel, but it was so hard to tell where the angel ended and where the human began.

The Hellhound was still cringing from the light of Amitiel's entrance and before it could recover, Amitiel grabbed its muzzle, yanked its head back, and slashed her blade across its throat in a spray of blue-black blood. She stood over the body for a moment, her chest heaving, her dripping sword held out and ready.

Nothing else moved.

A flutter of wings heralded Kadmiel's arrival and she took in the sight of her sister, covered in blood both human and Hellhound, wings raised threateningly. "Nicely done," Kadmiel observed. "I would not have thought to separate from the vessel."

Amitiel took a deep breath and cleansed herself of the gore. She slid her blade up the sleeve of her jacket and forced her wings back to a more passive position. "Well, the situation necessitated unorthodox creativity," she said, a little breathlessly. She toed the Hellhound's corpse. "We should be wary of others. Astaroth has a whole pack under her control."

Kadmiel nodded in reply and together the angels ventured deeper into the compound.


	5. Chapter 5

The building must have been something industrial at some point. The concrete and metal décor was consistent as the angels explored further. Within Amitiel, Mallory was still awake and alert.

_This is the part where the blonde cheerleader decides it's a good idea to wander off down a dark hallway and gets eaten,_ the girl said in a slightly shaky voice.

Amitiel allowed a frown to crease her forehead. _"I don't understand..."_ she replied.

Mallory giggled nervously. _Nothing, sorry. Too many horror movies growing up._ She paused and then went on, _But in all seriousness, it really is too quiet around here._

"Where are the other hounds?" Amitiel said out loud, drawing Kadmiel's attention. They came to an intersection and halted. Kadmiel turned to look at Amitiel.

"Can you tell where Sam Winchester is being held?"

Amitiel probed at the Mark, trying to reach across distances to the tiny bit of Grace she'd lodged in the young man's soul. She shook her head with a sigh. "He is close. That is all I can tell."

Kadmiel pressed her lips together. "We should divide this place and search separately. It will take less time."

_No!_ Mallory exclaimed. _Never split up! Bad things always happen after you split up!_

Amitiel shook her head. "We should stay together. We would be vulnerable alone."

And that's when the Hellhounds attacked.

Kadmiel grabbed Amitiel by the shoulder and spun her out of the way, lifting one hand to blast the first hound into the others. Amitiel drew her sword and prepared to attack, but Kadmiel shook her head at her. "No," she called over the sounds of the enraged Hellhounds. "Go. Find the Winchesters. I'll hold them off."

Amitiel nodded sharply in reply and bolted down the hallway, away from the impending battle. Kadmiel turned back to the hounds, which were regrouping in front of her. She raised her sword to her forehead in a mocking salute.

XxxXxxX

Sam gave a pained groan and slumped against the metal pole he was tied to, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Dean lunged forward, snarling wordlessly. "You leave him alone, you fucking _bitch_," he spat. "I'm gonna rip your heart out."

Meg turned her head to stare at him from ink-black eyes. "Wait your turn, Dean," she said in a malevolent hiss. She waved her hand carelessly at him and he was struck in the face, three lines of fire blossoming across his cheek. Blood dripped off his jaw onto his shirt but he still glared at the demon standing over him.

"Touch him again and I'll tear you apart," he growled. Meg laughed and crouched in front of him again.

"Look at you, Dean. Where are your angels now? Huh? No one's gonna come rescue you."

Sam hit her like a freight train, tackling her to the ground and driving his fist in her face. He grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her head against the concrete floor before reaching for the knife in her belt. There were loops of rope around each of his wrists, the ends frayed.

Meg screamed in fury and bucked underneath Sam, trying to throw him off of her. When his superior weight proved inhibiting, she cheated. Sam was picked up and thrown against the wall, dropping down to curl up in a fetal position and making choking sounds of pain.

The demon slowly got to her feet, wiping blood from her mouth. "Oh, you think you're clever, huh Sammy? Getting free?"

Sam gave a breathless laugh. "You shoulda checked for razor blades, you stupid bitch."

Meg screeched again and strode over where Sam lay, lifting her hand in preparation. Sam surged up, Ruby's knife flashing, and swung it at Meg's abdomen. She twisted out of the way just in time but the knife's tip still caught her skin, carving a shallow gash across her belly.

She stumbled backwards with a gasp of pain, pressing one arm to the wound as it lit up with orange sparks. "Son of a bitch!" she hissed. She flung out a hand and flattened Sam against the wall. "I'm gonna cut you open for that," she growled.

"Sam! No!" Dean called uselessly, straining against his bonds. Meg stooped to retrieve the demon knife and stepped over to Sam. She placed the tip against his stomach and pressed until it sank into his skin. Sam grunted through clenched teeth, his face twisted in pain. Meg bared her teeth at him and dragged the knife slowly across his abdomen. Sam groaned, the cords standing out from his neck. Dark red blossomed against his shirt, spreading at an alarming rate.

Dean was yelling now, a semi-coherent stream of blasphemy and threats that by rights should have reduced Meg to a smoldering pile of ashes. She completely ignored him, lowering the knife again to Sam's stomach.

"I'm gonna make you scream," she said almost seductively.

"Go to hell," Sam panted.

"You first," Meg replied, shoving the knife into Sam's gut.

Sam gave a strange little squeak, his eyes flying open wide, and he slid down the wall to land awkwardly on his butt, his legs crumpling underneath him. He pressed his hand to the wound in his stomach, blood dribbling through his fingers.

"_Sam!_" Dean bellowed, thrashing in his effort to get free. "Sam!"

"Oh, shut up, Dean," Meg growled. "I'm not gonna let him die. He's too valuable for that." She stuck the demon-killing knife back in her belt and crouched in front of Sam, grabbing a fistful of his hair to force him to look at her. His eyes were unfocused, his mouth hanging open. A trickled of blood slid over his bottom lip. "You done with the trying to escape now?" Meg asked in a voice dripping with mock-patience. "Cause I can do this all day. This is fun for me."

Sam's lips moved slightly, and a few unintelligible sounds made it past his throat. Meg cocked her head mockingly. "What was that?" she asked. "I didn't catch that last part."

"He said, look behind you, bitch."

Meg dropped Sam and whirled to her feet, staring in disbelief at the girl standing in the doorway. "What? How did you get in here? The wards—"

"Never underestimate an angel," Amitiel replied, stepping into the room. She waved her hand in Dean's direction and the ropes disintegrated. He lunged for Sam, slipping one arm around his neck to support his head and pressing the other hand to the wound. Meg didn't look down at the brothers at her feet, focused instead on the more immediate threat of the angel.

The demon's face twisted into a snarl and she reached into her leather jacket. "Yeah, well, never underestimate an angel's tendency for blind stupidity." She pulled out a long, gleaming gold feather. It had markings of blood and charcoal on it, and a hex bag dangled from the shaft.

Amitiel's eyes widened in panic and she lunged forward, sword raised, but it was too late. Meg snapped the feather in two. A loud, rippling crack sounded in the room and Amitiel screamed. She dropped to one knee, using her free hand to keep herself from collapsing completely. She gave a low, heartrending groan before screaming again when Meg kicked sharply at what seemed like thin air.

The demon prowled over to Amitiel and kicked her in the face, knocking her over onto her back. Meg stomped down on Amitiel's right wrist, trapping her sword hand. "You are a serious pain in the ass," Meg told the downed angel. Extending her hand toward Amitiel, Meg began to chant, her words rolling and twisting in sickening sounds.

Amitiel convulsed, light exploding from her mouth and eyes. The high-pitched tone of an angel's true voice split the air, but Meg kept chanting, lifting an hand to shield her eyes. Amitiel convulsed again, her back arching as the light grew brighter. Then the whole room exploded into painful, white light and a concussion wave knocked everyone to the ground.

Dean had managed to maintain pressure on Sam's wound throughout the entire ordeal, not daring to leave his brother lest Sam bleed out. He lowered his arm from his eyes and looked over across the room with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Meg picked herself up from where she had fallen beside the body of the angel. The blonde girl lay still and unmoving, but her chest rose and fell slightly with each faint breath.

"Damn," Meg said, sounding vaguely surprised. "It actually works." She stooped and picked up Amitiel's abandoned sword. "Very nice. I think I'll keep this."

A hand snatched the sword from Meg's grasp a second before she was blasted across the room. A man stood in the place she had just been occupying. His dark hair stood up in places, and a day's worth of stubble clung to his cheeks. His face was haggard but his blue eyes burned like sapphire flames.

"What," Castiel growled. "Have you done to my sister?"

Meg once more picked herself up, instinctively going into a defensive crouch. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for some sort of escape, only to find Kadmiel in the opposite corner of the room, her own eyes ablaze in anger.

"Well," Meg said breathlessly. "This has been fun. I'll catch you guys later." With that she threw back her head and a stream of black smoke exploded from her mouth, disappearing through the cracks in the ceiling. The emptied host collapsed to the ground.

Castiel was already moving before the body hit the floor, dropping to his knees beside the still form of Amitiel's vessel. Kadmiel took the short cut to the Winchester boys, gently shoving Dean out of the way to examine Sam's wound.

Castiel lifted the girl's head off the floor, peering at her in concern. He stretched out his senses toward her, searching...and finding nothing. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his face creased in concern.

Sam groaned when Kadmiel pressed her hand against the deep stab wound, but it turned into a surprised gasp when he felt his skin, muscles, and organs begin to knit themselves up. Within a matter of seconds, the only evidence he'd been stabbed at all was the blood on his shirt.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders, looking his brother straight in the eye. "Sammy," he said roughly. "Hey. You all right?"

"Yeah," Sam said, still a little in shock. "Yeah, I'm okay." He looked away from Dean to meet Kadmiel's gaze. "Thanks," he said softly.

She didn't reply, turning instead to look down at her brother. He was still cradling the girl's head, murmuring quietly in Enochian. Sam followed her gaze and tensed. "No," he whispered, struggling to his feet. "Cas, is she—"

At that moment the girl gasped and her eyes flew open, pale silver-gray latching onto Castiel's bright blue. She immediately started to hyperventilate, hands flying up to clutch the lapels of Cas' black trench coat.

"Mallory," Castiel said soothingly. "Calm down. It's all right. I'm here."

"Cas," Mallory whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Cas, she's gone."

XxxXxxX

Dean stood by the window of the motel room, staring at the other two humans broodingly. Mal was curled up in the corner of the far bed. Sam sat next to her, talking in a low voice, his hand rubbing soothing circles onto her back. As Dean watched, she leaned against Sam's side, putting her head down on his shoulder. Sam pressed a light kiss onto her hair and tightened his hold on her.

"So," Dean said without tearing his gaze from Sam and Mal. "What the hell happened back there?"

"Astaroth exorcised Amitiel from her vessel," Kadmiel said shortly.

Dean finally turned to look at the angels. "Isn't that was Alistair tried to do to you last year?" he demanded of Castiel. Cas nodded. "What happens to an angel when they're exorcised?"

Cas spread his hands. "They return to Heaven. But in Amitiel's case, Heaven is closed to her. The spell could have sent her anywhere."

A wave of relief crashed over Dean. "She's alive," he said, searching Castiel's face for confirmation.

He nodded. "She's alive," he affirmed. "But weak, and probably disoriented. She'll be vulnerable until we can return her to Mallory."

Kadmiel stepped over to Castiel's side and put a hand on his arm. "We need to find her before the demons, or others of our kin."

Castiel nodded in agreement. He looked over at Dean again. "You'll take care of Mallory until we return." It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah," Dean replied anyway. "Good luck."

The angels vanished with a faint breeze and the sound of feathers. Dean ran his fingers through his hair and turned back to the other two. "Hey," he called softly. "Cas and Kadmiel are gonna find Ami. Everything's going to be all right, okay?"

Mallory nodded wearily and whispered something to Sam. He patted her arm reassuringly and got up, crossing over to Dean.

"How is she?" Dean demanded in a quiet voice.

"Not too bad," Sam replied. "At least she knows Ami's alive this time. She wants to get showered and change. I told her we'd wait outside."

"Yeah, sure," Dean agreed instantly, grabbing the room key and heading for the door. He checked the cooler in the trunk of the Impala and was pleased to find two beers floating in the melted ice. He offered one to Sam, who took it with a grateful look.

"So this hunt was a total bust," Dean grumbled.

Sam grunted in agreement, lifting his beer to his lips. Dean waited until Sam had a mouthful before continuing, "You wanna tell me what's going on between you and Mal?"

Sam nearly sputtered the beer all over himself, his face turning read with the effort not to. Dean smirked evilly when Sam finally regained control. "You _jerk_!" Sam accused, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Bitch," Dean replied easily. He jostled Sam with his shoulder. "Come on, Sammy. Spill. You and Mal?"

"It's nothing," Sam said tersely, turning his head away.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Didn't look like nothing when you guys were cuddling earlier."

"We were not—" Sam began, but cut himself off. He took a swallow of beer, shooting a look at Dean as he did. "It's not like anything could happen, anyway. Not while she's Amitiel's vessel."

"She's not now," Dean pointed out.

"Ami's coming back," Sam said firmly. "Besides," he went on before Dean could comment. "Do you really think this is the appropriate time for that kind of relationship?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, if it's the end of the world, then you should take whatever time you got to make merry. That's my philosophy."

Sam finished his beer. "Well, it's not mine." He was saved from further argument by his cellphone going off. Digging it out with an annoyed expression, he checked the screen. He stiffened and then stuffed the phone back into his pocket, heading for the motel door.

"What is it?" Dean demanded.

"Chuck," Sam replied shortly. "It's an emergency."


	6. Chapter 6

As they reached the address Chuck had sent them, Sam twisted to look into the backseat. Mal was asleep, her head pillowed on one arm. She still wore her own jeans, but she'd traded the blouse and jacket for one of Dean's t-shirts and Sam's battered hoodie. Her hair straggled out of her ponytail, falling in wisps across her face. Sam reached back and placed a hand on her thigh, shaking gently.

She started awake, eyes wide and immediately alert. "We're here," Sam told her, and she nodded, swiping her hair out of her eyes with one hand and reaching under the seat with the other. She pulled a long, leather tube into view and slung it over her shoulder by the carrying strap. As soon as Dean put the car into park, she and Sam were out of the car.

"Dean, come on!" Sam called when Dean didn't immediately follow.

Chuck had called them to some sort of hotel, and the three of them hurried across the parking lot. They found the prophet pacing in front of the stairs to the main entrance, looking deeply troubled.

"Chuck," Sam said as they reached him. "There you are."

Mallory raked her gaze over the man standing in front of them. He was short, slightly unkempt, and looked like he hadn't slept in a couple of years. He stared at them with wide, nervous eyes, his gaze flicking to each one of them in turn.

"What's going on?" Dean demanded.

Sounds came out of Chuck's mouth, but they didn't make much sense until, "What are you guys doing here?"

"You told us to come," Dean said, a frown starting to crease his forehead.

Chuck's face wrinkled in confusion. "Uh...no I didn't," he replied.

"You texted me," Sam informed him curtly. "This address, life and death situation? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"No, I—I, I didn't send you a text," Chuck insisted.

"We drove all night!" Dean exclaimed irately, taking a threatening step forward. Chuck cringed away almost on instinct, holding his hands up placatingly.

"No, no, I don't understand what could pos—" he babbled hurriedly, and then horror dawned on his features. "Oh, no," he said quietly, going white.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Sam?" The shriek of excitement was female and high-pitched. They all swung around in time to see a brunette woman appear at the top of the stairs. "You made it!" she continued in the same shriek. She almost tripped down the stairs in her haste, coming to an awkward halt in front of Sam, who took a half-step away from her.

"Oh, uh...Becky," Sam said in greeting, his voice dripping with lack of enthusiasm.

"You remembered," the woman said breathlessly, staring up at Sam with worship in her eyes. Mallory scowled, hitched the leather tube up higher on her shoulder, and bumped her hip against Sam. He looked down at her, automatically twisting his body toward her, and lifted one hand to rest on the small of her back.

"You've been thinking about me," Becky was saying, her gaze still on Sam. "That's okay, I can't get you out of my—who is _she_?" Becky finally realized Sam's attention was no longer on her and was now staring wide-eyed at Mallory, who was resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at the other woman.

Dean glanced from Becky to Mallory and smirked suddenly. "This is Mallory," he introduced before Sam could say anything. "She's Sam's girlfriend."

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. "Dean," he muttered threateningly, even as he pulled Mallory protectively against his side. Becky's mouth dropped open and Chuck winced, taking a delicate step away.

"What?" Becky squealed. "No! That—that's wrong! A girlfriend would interfere with the relationship between the brothers and completely throw off the dynamic. You can't have everything they've been through together and just shoehorn in some random girl and expect it to work!" She whirled on Chuck. "You _wrote_ this? Why didn't I know about this? It's a horrible plot line!"

Mallory felt the blood rush to her face and she stepped forward just as Becky turned back toward her. Her palm caught Becky square across the face, snapping the other woman's head to the side. Everyone stared at her in shock.

"I don't _care_ about your plot lines," Mallory growled in a low voice. "I don't _care_ about your dynamics. This is my life and if you don't like, tough shit."

Everyone continued to stare blankly at Mallory until a guy poked his head out the front door. "Hey Chuck!" he called cheerfully. "Come on, it's showtime!"

Chuck groaned and rubbed his face. He looked up at the Winchesters. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "About everything." With that he fled indoors, Becky on his heels. Dean and Sam turned to look down at Mallory.

"Okay," Dean began. "I have seen you at all times of the day, but since when are you bitchy?"

Mal crossed her arms over her chest and scowled back at them. "I had my angel ripped out of me yesterday," she said sharply. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Sam reached over to squeeze her shoulder. "Look, I know it's been rough the past few days, and Becky _is_ annoying, but did you really have to hit her?"

She scowled harder. "No," she finally admitted. "But I'm not apologizing."

Dean shook his head and started for the door. "Let's go see what this whole thing is about," he said. Sam and Mal exchanged an apprehensive look and followed. Becky had waited just inside the door for them, the attraction of the Winchester brothers overriding her fear of Mallory, despite the red mark that had already appeared on her cheek.

As they stepped into the lobby, Dean and Sam stopped dead in their tracks. Mallory peeked out from behind Sam to see what was wrong. At that moment, a heavy-set man wandered by, a drink in one hand. "Looking good, 'Dean,'" he said with a laugh, cocking his finger at Dean.

Dean looked taken aback. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The man pointed to himself. "I'm Dean, too." He was wearing a leather jacket and a golden amulet was strung around his neck. He wandered off when there were no reactions to his statement other than blank stares.

Mallory glanced over the rest of the lobby. "Oh, God," she said. "It's a mini Comic-Con."

"No, it's more awesome!" Becky chirped, staying out of range of Mallory. "It's a Supernatural Convention. The first ever!"

Mal poked Sam in the arm. "There are people dressed up like you," she stage-whispered.

"I know," he muttered back. Dean's eyes widened and he jerked his head toward a nearby booth. Sam and Mal both looked. The man behind the booth had solid black eyes and the kid he was talking to had sulfur-yellow eyes.

Mallory blinked. "I think I'm gonna wait in the car." She tried to make a break for the door, but Sam grabbed her sleeve before she got far.

"Hey, at least you aren't in any of the books," he told her. "You should be safe enough. Come on."

XxxXxxX

The question-answer session left all three of them speechless and upset. "More books?" Mallory finally managed, her voice breaking into a squeak. "No. No no no no no. No more books. I am not getting written into some crappy book series!"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look and stomped off. Mallory sighed heavily before following, finding them confronting Chuck in the bar room, much to the amusement of Becky.

"...We don't have time for this crap," Dean was saying.

"I didn't call you here," Chuck protested.

"He means the books, Chuck," Sam put in. "Why are you publishing more books?"

"Um, for food and shelter?" Chuck replied, clearly uncomfortable. He glanced over at Mal when she reached them and offered her a surprisingly gentle smile. Dean, not catching the exchange, leaned over into the prophet's personal space.

"Who gave you the rights to our life story?" he demanded angrily.

"An archangel," Chuck suddenly snapped back. "And I didn't want it."

"Well, deal's off, okay?" Sam said, keeping a cool head. "No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption."

There was a moment of awkward silence and then Chuck turned to Becky. "Uh, Becky, would you excuse us for just a second?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh," she replied nervously. Chuck got to his feet and led the brothers to the next room. Mal didn't follow. She just didn't feel like getting involved. Becky eyed Mallory warily and Mal winced at the sight of the mark on the other woman's cheek.

"Look, about earlier," Mal started. She sighed. "I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry."

"O-oh, it's okay," Becky said quickly, lifting her head to look Mal full in the face. "Are you really Sam's girlfriend?"

Mal sighed again and sank into Chuck's vacated chair, slipping the leather tube off her shoulder and into her lap. "To be honest, I don't know what the hell we are. Everything's just so damn complicated."

"Because of the Apocalypse," Becky said helpfully.

Mal laughed without much humor. "And other things." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't think either of us are in any position for a stable relationship right now and..." she trailed off, wondering what had possessed her to begin opening up to Becky. It had been entirely too long since she'd had a girl talk with a human. She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

There was a hesitant touch on her arm and she lifted her head sharply just in time to see Becky snatch her hand away. Becky looked away awkwardly, twisting her hands together. "So, um," she said. "What's in the leather case?"

Mallory looked down at the object in question and clenched her hands around it protectively. "Just something I'm hanging onto for a friend," she replied softly, feeling the ridges of Ami's sword through the leather.

Sam and Dean stomped back into the bar room a few minutes later, and Mallory jumped to her feet, leaving Becky to hurry over to them. "What's going on?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "No freakin' clue," he muttered, ordering a beer with a few gestures to the bartender. "There's some kind of game going on, like a ghost hunt."

Mal winced. "Great. Sounds awesome." She hesitated for a moment, and then plucked lightly at Sam's sleeve. "Hey, you know where Chuck went?"

Sam frowned at her as he swallowed his mouthful of beer. "Why?" he asked curiously. Mal shrugged.

"Got a question for him."

"I think he went that way," Sam pointed. Mal patted his arm absently.

"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute." She wandered off in the direction Sam had indicated. She hadn't gotten far when she found herself confronted by a woman with dark, stringy hair, pale make-up, and a tattered gray dress. Fake blood dripped from her eyes onto her cheeks.

"Another girl! Cool!" the woman chirped cheerfully, completely in contrast with her outfit. Then she frowned. "Except...who are you supposed to be? Oh, are you Jo? You're Jo, right? That would be awesome because we don't have a Jo!"

Mallory stared blankly at the woman. "No," she said flatly. "I'm not Jo." She pushed past the woman and hurriedly retreated from the room. She found Chuck in a quiet, out of the way corner, fiddling with his phone. He looked up sharply when Mal approached, but his expression softened upon seeing her.

"Oh, uh, hi Mallory."

She stopped a couple paces away. "So you know who I am."

He chuckled nervously and gestured at his head. "Prophet, you know."

Mal nodded. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

The pinched expression returned. "You, uh, that is, I haven't shown anyone the more recent stuff. No one...no one knows about you, yet. Except Becky, now, I guess. The books we were gonna publish, you're not in them."

"Not about the books," Mallory told him. "About Ami. Do you know where she is?"

Chuck's shoulders slumped. "No. I'm sorry. I saw all of that last night and...I'm sorry," he said again.

Mal nodded again, a little numbly. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Chuck patted her shoulder awkwardly. Something clicked in Mal's head and her eyes flew open. She grabbed the front of Chuck's jacket. He squeaked when she pushed him against the wall.

"Did you tell anyone?" she demanded.

"Tell anyone what?" he asked plaintively, more resigned than frightened.

"About Kadmiel helping us?" Mal went on. "Did you tell the other angels?"

"And get her killed?" Chuck replied, shocked. "No!"

Mal instantly released him. "Okay," she said, contrite. "Sorry. And...thanks."

Dean stomped over towards them. "Mal! Come on, we got a real ghost." He stomped away. Mal and Chuck exchanged an awkward look.

"Right," she said. "I gotta..."

"Uh-huh," Chuck replied, giving her a slight wave.

Mallory fled.


	7. Chapter 7

Mal sat on the hood of the Impala, her feet braced against the front bumper. It had finally stopped raining but the sky was still gray and clouded, and the gravel road they were parked on was pocked with puddles. She stared at the ground in front of the car, occupied by her own thoughts.

A gun. A magic gun that could kill anything. Maybe even Lucifer. If they could pull this off, then the Apocalypse would be over. They'd be done. And then what? It wasn't like she could ever go home. After all, Ami had killed two demons right in front of a police detective, and then had gone on to break into the Detroit police department to rescue Sam and Dean from custody. If she tried to go home, they'd lock her up, either in prison or an institution.

Neither of those options were attractive.

And then there was the fact that she didn't _want_ to go home. It wasn't that she was happier here, in the middle of the end of the world, being stabbed and beaten and tortured and thrown off buildings. Her life most certainly wasn't better now than it was before. To be honest, it was probably much worse, even taking abusive fathers into account.

But for the first time in her life, she felt like she was doing something that mattered. Something important. She was helping to save the world. That meant something, right? And there was more. The people she'd met since Amitiel had first come to her, and not just Sam and Dean. Amelia and Claire Novak, now staying with the Valkyries in Maine. She'd saved their lives. And there was Bobby, of course. She'd lived with him during the worst time of her life and he was almost family, now.

Somehow, in all the insanity, she realized there was nowhere else she'd rather be. Who knew being kidnapped would be the best thing to happen to her?

"Hey."

She looked up, blinking her way back to the present, to see Sam looming over her. "Hey," she replied. "What's up?"

"Cas just called in. He found Crowley's hide-out."

Mal nodded. "Ellen and Jo gonna meet us there?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Ready to hit the road?"

She slid off the Impala. "Why not?" she said dryly.

XxxXxxX

Dean watched Crowley's villa through a pair of night-vision binoculars, the expensive kind he probably got somewhere illegal. Mal helped Sam load the shotguns with salt rounds while Ellen and Jo finished scouting the perimeter with Cas.

"We're gonna need some way past the gate," Dean declared just as the scouts rejoined them.

Cas nodded in agreement. "We'll have to distract the guards," he said gravely. Mal and Jo rolled their eyes at the same time. Turning to the older girl, Mal stuck out her fist and cocked an eyebrow. Jo considered for a moment and mimicked the gesture. They bounced their fists in the air a couple of times.

"Dammit," Jo muttered when Mal's paper trumped her rock.

Ellen hooked her thumb over her shoulder at her red pick-up. "I think there's something in the blue bag," she told her daughter unhelpfully. Jo glared at her mother and crawled into the truck to change.

"Once we get inside the gate, we want to knock out the power," Dean went on. Ellen nodded and handed Mal a pair of wire cutters. She shoved them into a pocket and reached for the leather tube resting atop the other weapons in the Impala's trunk. Opening the drawstring at the top, she pulled out Amitiel's silver sword, the hilt fitting into her hand as if it had been made for her.

Sam eyed her closely. "You gonna be able to use that?" he asked. She gave him a flat look and didn't reply. Jo emerged from the truck wearing a little black dress and heels, twisting her hair into a messy knot on top of her head.

"All right," she growled. "Let's get this over with."

The others got into position before Jo approached the gate, Cas staying behind with the cars due to the angel wards. Mal blinked in confusion as she peered at the walls of the villa. Apparently Kadmiel's gift had lasted longer than she'd thought. The wards glowed with white light in the darkness. Unfortunately, these weren't the kind that could be deactivated with a well-placed sword thrust.

The two guards that confronted Jo were quickly taken care of and they slipped through the gate, Mal handing Jo the sneakers she'd been holding onto so the older girl could replace the heels. Ellen jerked her head to the side and Mal and Jo followed as Dean and Sam headed toward the house.

They found the power box without too much trouble and Ellen crouched in front of it, readying the wire cutters. Jo gave a startled squeak when a shadow grabbed her from behind, throwing her to the ground. Rolling over onto her back, Jo kicked the demon hard in the thigh, forcing him to stumble backwards.

Ellen spun around and chucked the heavy wire cutters at the demon's head, but he caught them easily, his feral grin gleaming in the moonlight. He stepped forward, hefting the makeshift weapon, only to pause with an uncertain frown on his face. A trickle of dark blood ran from the corner of his mouth and he dropped to his knees, revealing Mallory standing behind him with the angel sword in one hand, blood gleaming on the blade.

"Hurry up," she hissed at Ellen, who retrieved her wire cutters and finished shutting down the power. As the lights vanished inside the house, the three women retreated back to where Castiel waited. The angel looked over them in concern, noting the dirt on Jo's back and the blood on Mal's sword, but he said nothing, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as they waited.

They didn't have to wait long. Dean and Sam appeared only moment later, Sam thoughtful and Dean disturbed. "What's wrong?" Castiel demanded, stepping forward into Dean's personal space. Dean took an automatic step back, holding up a hand to fend the angel off.

"You're never gonna believe what just happened," Dean told all of them.

XxxXxxX

It was a subdued caravan that arrived at Bobby's house a few days later. They had the Colt and the dubious blessings of a crossroad demon, but their plan for the next step was still tenuous. As Mallory clambered stiffly out of the back seat of the Impala, the front door swung open and a big, black German Shepherd bounded out onto the gravel drive, heading straight for Mal.

She laughed and went down on one knee to greet the dog, allowing him to lick her face as she scratched his neck roughly. "Hey, buddy, you miss me?" Crow wagged his tail enthusiastically as he nosed her cheek with a low whine and lapped at her chin.

Dean and Sam began unloading the Impala as Ellen and Jo grabbed their bags from their pick-up. Mallory didn't have anything to bring into the house and was therefore the first one in, Crow leaning against her thigh as she walked. Bobby met her in the doorway and nodded at the big dog. "Damn thing was moping around like he'd been kicked," he told her. Mal laughed again and fondled Crow's ears. The dog had been her closest companion during her blindness, and though she no longer needed a seeing-eye dog, she still adored him.

"Bobby, good to see you," she said, smiling at the retired hunter.

"You, too," he replied, moving his wheelchair aside so she could get inside. "How you holding up?"

Mal rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm _fine_," she said in exasperation. "Would you guys quit asking?"

"The last time you lost Ami, you didn't do so well," Bobby reminded her.

"The last time I lost Ami, I thought she was dead," Mal retorted, retreating to the kitchen. "You got anything to eat in here?"

There wasn't much conversation as the hunters settled in, taking turns in the shower and getting fed after the long hours on the road. It was Dean who pulled out the first six-pack, but no one complained, not even Castiel, who sighed faintly when Dean shoved a bottle into his hands.

Mallory looked up in surprise when a bottle appeared in front of her. She blinked at it for a moment before glancing up at Dean. "Uh, I'm only twenty," she reminded him. He shrugged.

"Yeah. And?" was all he said. Mal hesitated before finally accepting the bottle, slowly taking her first sip. She grimaced at the bitter taste and Dean laughed at her, reaching over to take the bottle back. Mal hugged it to her chest and glared. Dean laughed again and wandered off into the library to talk with Sam, leaving Cas alone in the kitchen with the womenfolk.

Mal took another cautious sip and grimaced again. Jo looked over at her, eyes sparkling. "First one?" she asked.

"Hey, I was a good kid before all of this," Mal said defensively. She took a third swallow. "You guys have corrupted me."

Castiel tilted his head at her, his expression unreadable. "That isn't the word I'd use to describe it," he said gravely.

Ellen leaned back in her chair. "If we've got the angel drinking, sweetheart, I don't think you need to worry about corruption," she told Mal.

Cas made a noise suspiciously similar to a snort and lifted his half-empty bottle. "This has no effect on me," he informed them. He'd already finished his first beer, only to have Jo insist he take another.

Ellen raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Really? Well, in that case, why don't we try something stronger? Jo, honey, I think there's some vodka in the cabinet over there."

Jo jumped up with a mischievous grin but Mal stared at Ellen with wide eyes. "I don't think trying to get the angel drunk is a good idea," she stage-whispered.

"No," Ellen admitted. "But it will be fun."

Jo returned with the vodka and two stacks of shot glasses, pouring out the small glass cups. Castiel watched with interest as Ellen tossed the first shot back. Without missing a beat, Ellen finished her line of shots.

"Okay, big boy," she told Cas. "Go."

Imitating Ellen, Cas drank each shot in one swallow, turning the glasses over as he set them down. His expression didn't change as he waded through the vodka. Jo glanced at her mother for permission, and then refilled all of the shots. Again, Ellen went first, wincing slightly as the last one went down. Cas reached for his first shot. He fumbled slightly when he picked up the second, but finished the line with a straight face. He set the last cup down with more force than necessary and paused for a moment. Then he shot Mallory a sheepish look.

"I think I'm starting to feel something," he admitted.

"Yeah, you think?" she replied, her eyes round.

Bobby called them into the living room, and Mallory was grateful for the opportunity to leave her beer behind, only to discover Bobby was setting up a camera.

"Oh, come on, Bobby," Ellen protested for all of them. "No one wants their picture taken."

"Hear, hear," Sam piped up.

"Shut up," Bobby told him. "You're drinking my beer. Anyway," he went on. "I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."

"Ha!" Ellen said with a wry smirk. "It's always good to have an optimist around."

As they got into position in the corner, Mallory found herself in front of Sam, his arms draped loosely around her shoulders. She leaned against him and summoned a smile, only for it to die at Castiel's words.

"Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the Devil." He squared his shoulders and looked straight at the camera. "This is our last night on earth."

No one was smiling when the camera flashed.

XxxXxxX

Sam was the only one who noticed Mal slip out the back door. He waited a few minutes until Dean was distracted, trying to explain some aspect of humanity to Cas, and followed her. He found her on the back porch, Dean's cellphone to her ear.

"Mom...um, it's me." she was saying hesitantly. She sighed and hunched her shoulders. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking right now. And...I don't really know what to say. Look, the reason I haven't come home...I can't tell you, but it was my choice. No one's making me do anything I don't want to. I just wanted you to know that. And if you don't hear from me again, then I want to say, I love you. Okay? Okay. Um...So, I guess I should just say goodbye." She hesitated a long moment, and then hung up, clutching the phone tightly in one hand.

"You okay?" Sam asked softly. Mal startled and whirled around, hiding the phone behind her as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She looked down at her feet and then back up at Sam's face.

"She's the only one I wish I could tell the truth," she explained quietly.

Sam nodded but didn't really have anything to say to that. He didn't have a point of reference to empathize with her situation because this was the only life he'd ever known. All the important people already knew the truth.

"So, what's going on with the plan for tomorrow?" Mal asked, slipping the phone in her pocket. She'd try to get it back to Dean before he noticed.

"Dean thinks Crowley was on the level," Sam told her. "Carthage is covered with Revelation omens. It looks like our best bet."

"Great," Mal said, her voice flat and unreadable. She turned her back on Sam and leaned her elbows against the porch railing. "You think Cas is right?" she asked over her shoulder. "Think we're all gonna die tomorrow?"

Sam went to join her, leaning down next to her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'd like to think we're gonna make it through this." He snorted. "But on the other hand, I didn't think any of us would survive this long already."

Mal huffed and gave him a twisted smile. "Yeah," she agreed. "Weird how that works out, isn't it?" She tilted her head back to look at the stars. "I wish Ami were here," she said suddenly. "She'd be more useful than me, anyway."

"You'll do fine," Sam told her. She shook her head.

"Would you think less of me if I told you I'm scared?" she said softly. "We're going up against the freakin' _Devil_, Sam. How are you not scared out of your head?"

Sam shrugged. "Who said I wasn't?" Mal threw him a startled look. "You fight anyway," he went on. "That's what this job means."

"Yeah, well, this job sucks," Mal muttered.

"Can't argue with you there," Sam admitted. "But someone's got to do it."

Mal stared at her hands and said nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Mallory eased out of the backseat of the Impala, looking around. She had a shotgun cradled in her arms and Amitiel's sword slung over one shoulder. "I don't like this," she said, her voice subdued. Sam circled the car to stand beside her.

"Yeah, me neither," he said, eying the silent buildings around them. Dean cocked his shotgun noisily and grimaced as the echoes bounced around them.

"Let's find the others," he said gruffly. They said nothing as they made their way to the rendezvous, every sense alert for any movement. Jo and Ellen arrived in the center of town at the same time as them. Dean frowned at them.

"Where's Cas?" he demanded.

"He's not with you?" Ellen frowned back. "He said something about Reapers, the whole town being full of them. He went to check it out."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Twenty minutes in and we've lost our only advantage."

"He'll show up," Mallory said stoutly, glaring at Dean for his lack of faith. He shrugged.

"Let's keep moving," he ordered. The five of them began walking down the street, spreading out to glance in windows and doors as they passed. Mal and Jo found themselves keeping pace, the two blonde girls watching each other's back almost instinctively.

"This place gives me the creeps," Jo whispered to Mal. She nodded in agreement.

"Oh, shit," Dean said from in front of them. Everyone whipped around to see what had dismayed him, and Mallory felt the blood drain from her face.

Meg stood not fifty yards from them, arms crossed over her chest and a smug smirk twisting her lips. "You just can't get enough of me, huh, Dean?" she called. Mal swallowed thickly, her eyes never leaving the hellhounds flanking the female demon. Phantom pain throbbed down her back.

"As much as I'd love to stay and play," Meg went on. "I really have better thing to be doing." She looked down at her pets. "Sic 'em, boys."

"Run!" Mal screamed as the hounds lunged forward. No one hesitated, turning and pelting back the way they'd come. A puddle splashed as the panting and growling got closer to Dean. He glanced behind him out of pure instinct, even knowing the hounds were invisible. Just as he imagined he could feel the hot breath, a shotgun blast seared past him and the hound yelped.

Jo had taken a stand in the middle of the street to cover Dean and Sam's retreat, using sound and wet footprints to aim her shots. She cocked and fired again, moving forward when one of the hounds knocked over a garbage bin. Adrenaline sang through her veins as she chambered a third round, hoping for the kill shot. But she'd forgotten about the other hound.

The young woman screamed in surprise and pain when she felt the claws rake down the outside of her left leg, jeans shredding and blossoming red. She stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling onto her back to bring her shotgun back up. Invisible teeth closed around her left ankle, piercing through her boot, and she kicked out with her right, feeling resistance.

Then Mallory tackled the hellhound like a miniature juggernaut, her shotgun abandoned and Amitiel's sword gleaming in her hand. Mallory slashed and stabbed indiscriminately, trying desperately to avoid the hound's claws and teeth. It snarled angrily, its face mere inches from hers, and snapped at her, fangs grazing her cheek. Mallory gritted her teeth and plunged the angel-sword into the beast's neck with all the strength she could summon. It gurgled for a moment, blue-black blood gushing from the wound, and then it collapsed right on top of Mallory.

"Oof!" she grunted, the weight driving the air from her lungs. She levered the corpse off her body with great difficulty, slithering out from underneath it. She got to her feet unsteadily. Dean and Ellen were crouched on either side of Jo. Sam was jogging toward Mallory.

"I'm okay!" she called to him, and then the other hellhound hit her broadside. Amitiel's sword flew from her grasp as Mallory hit the ground and tumbled over the asphalt, landing on her back and cracking her head hard enough to see stars. Before she could gather herself and get moving, the hound was atop her, razor claws slashing at her vulnerable abdomen.

Mallory screamed, high and frantic as blood sprayed onto her face and ground surrounding her. She only distantly heard Sam yelling her name, the shotgun blast, and the hellhound retreating. Then Sam was next to her, gathering her into his arms and racing down the street. Over Sam's shoulder, she saw that a third hound had joined the injured one.

They took refuge in a hardware store, Dean chaining the doors shut against the hellhounds. Sam gently placed Mal on the floor, leaning her against the counter. He pulled her hand away from the wound in her stomach. She didn't look down, kept her eyes on his face, and saw how he paled, his eyes widening.

"That bad, huh?" she grunted, her teeth clenched from the pain.

"You'll be okay," Sam said instantly. Mallory rolled her head against the counter to look at Jo.

"How is she?"

"Missed the artery," Ellen announced, using her jacket as a bandage to tie off the wounds. "If we can get out of here, she'll make it."

"Good," Mal muttered. "Hate to get eviscerated for nothing." She tried to shift position and gasped as another wave of pain burned through her abdomen. Sam tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"Hey, take it easy. You need to save your strength for when we make a run for it."

Mal looked up at him. "Don't think I'll be doing much running." She coughed, gasped when the movement jarred her wounds, and coughed again. Blood sprayed from her lips, misting the side of Sam's face. He didn't react.

Dean called Sam's name and he squeezed her shoulder before leaving. Ellen took his place, pressing a wad of material to the slashes in Mallory's stomach. "Tell me the truth," Mal whispered to the older woman. "How bad is it?" Ellen hesitated. "Please," Mallory begged.

"It's bad," Ellen admitted. "But we're gonna get you out of here, Mal. Just you hang on."

Mal shook her head. "Not with the hounds outside. Gotta take 'em out."

"We could blow 'em up," Jo suggested. She looked over to the other two women. "There's propane tanks here, nails, wires. We can make a bomb."

Mal managed a shaky grin. "Good idea." Her breathing was becoming more difficult as more blood bubbled up her throat from her perforated stomach. Sam and Dean joined the women, crouching on the blood-slick floor.

"Managed to get a hold of Bobby with that old transistor radio," Dean told them, jerking his head toward the device. "He said the Lucifer's planning something pretty big."

"How big?" Ellen demanded immediately.

"Near as we can figure, he's trying to summon Death," Dean said grimly. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Mallory coughed again.

"You're not...you're not gonna be able to stop him in time with us wounded," she rasped out between choked breaths. "Jo's got an idea."

"Bomb," the older girl said promptly. "Lure the hounds in and blow the place sky high while we head out the back."

Dean perked up. "Nice. Ellen, you take Mal and Jo and get back to the cars, get the hell out of here. Sam and I'll go after Lucifer."

"No."

All eyes turned to stare at Mal, who was struggling to push herself up. A grimace flashed across her face. "I can't feel my legs," she muttered. Sam reached down to steady her.

"What do you mean, no?" Sam demanded.

"Ellen can't handle Jo _and_ me," Mal explained. She felt tears trickle from her chin and realized she'd been crying for some time now. "And you'll need someone to lure the hounds in. Give you time to get away."

Sam's expression hardened. "No way," he snapped. Mal reached put her hand atop his, smearing blood onto his skin.

"Sam," she said softly. "_I can't feel my legs_."

He shook his head. "Mal, no."

Mal shot Dean a pleading look and he put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "She's right, Sam," he said, his eyes fixed on Mal's.

"Shut up," Sam snarled at his brother.

"Please, Sam," Mal begged. "Just let me do this."

Sam's eyes became hollow, empty. She knew that logic was kicking in and breathed a prayer of gratitude. She tightened her grip on Sam's hand. "You find Lucifer," she said fiercely. "You find him and you kill him, you hear me? You end this today."

Sam swallowed hard and jerked his head in a nod. He pulled away, got to his feet to help Dean assemble the bomb. Ellen crouched in front of Mal, her eyes fierce and hard. "You saved my baby girl," she said. "Thank you."

Mal smiled faintly and turned to look at Jo. "Keep an eye on them, okay?" Jo nodded solemnly, reaching over to take Mal's hand. Mallory clung to her friend with all her strength until Dean came over to her, holding a small black cylinder with wires attached to it. He pressed it into her free hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and kissed her forehead instead. Ellen helped Jo to her feet and moved towards the back door with Dean.

Sam knelt beside Mal again, reaching over to touch her cheek. She smiled crookedly at him. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Don't apologize," he chided softly.

"Tell Cas I said bye?" she asked. He nodded mutely. Then he leaned forward and kissed her mouth softly, lingering only a moment before pulling away. There was blood on his lips. Then he stood and was gone, pausing only to unchain the doors before vanishing.

Mallory took a slow, deep breath, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood, the fear. She didn't have long to wait. The hellhounds appeared at the front door, one of them shouldering it open so they both could enter. While one began pacing the perimeter of the store, the other paced slowly straight for Mallory, red eyes gleaming eagerly. It paused to sniff the streaks of blood on the linoleum, a black tongue flashing out to taste it. She watched it approach, for the first time completely unafraid. Only when it stood in front of her, nostrils flaring at the scent of her blood, did she lift the trigger.

"Surprise," she whispered.

The hardware store erupted into flame, blowing glass and building material into the sky. Sam and Dean stumbled as the force hit them, spinning around to stare at the fire blazing in the gathering twilight. Elsewhere, Ellen helped Jo into their pickup, unaware of the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Lucifer heard the explosion, and smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was tired. Just so damned tired of everything. Hunting, the Apocalypse, ghosts and angels and demons and younger brothers who couldn't keep the maid from seeing their entire gun collection. He reassembled the guns with angry, practiced motions while Sam shoved their clothing indiscriminately into the duffel bags.

It was just a salt-and-burn, a favor for an old friend. In and out, two days tops. But almost right after they arrived, Sam had started acting strange and Dean was damned if he could figure out why. Logic told him that Sam was probably still angsting over the royal fuck-up that had been Carthage, and the trip to the looney bin hadn't helped matters, but if anything all that should have made Sam more moody and withdrawn, not this erratic, almost juvenile creature that was masquerading as his brother.

Dean just didn't know what to do anymore.

A brisk knock on the door roused Dean from his thoughts and he glared at the door, wondering if the police had already shown up. The knock came again and Dean stomped over, checking through the peephole. "What the..." he muttered, and swung open the door. "You knocked," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said.

"You knocked on the door," Dean said again, unable to get past the fact that Castiel had actually _knocked on a door_.

"Can we come in?" Cas asked patiently, gesturing past Dean into the motel room.

"We?" Dean repeated.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean slowly turned his head to the right at the sound of the soft voice. He stared wordlessly for a long moment. "You have _got_ to stop doing this to us," he said reproachfully.

Mallory smiled lopsidedly and slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Sorry," was all she offered.

"So, Ami's okay?" Dean asked.

Mal reached up to tap her temple. "In here. Kadmiel got her back to me just in time."

Dean nodded and stepped aside to let the two enter. "Hey Sam," he called. "You'll never guess who it is."

Sam looked up from packing and Dean watched him carefully, looking forward to seeing his younger brother's reaction. Mallory stepped into the room, a smile already growing on her lips. But Sam only kept staring blankly as she walked toward him, stopping a few paces away.

"Hi, Sam," she said softly.

"Um, hi," he said, glancing aside at Dean. "Uh, how—how are you?"

Mallory's smile slipped. "I thought you'd be more surprised to see me," she said, disappointment coloring her voice.

"Oh, uh, I am!" Sam stammered. "It's just...I, uh..."

She reached up and touched his cheek with her fingertips, the gesture starting out as a caress but she snatched her hand away as if burned, her expression darkening suddenly. "Who are you?" she demanded harshly. "What have you done with Sam?"

Sam gave a surprised squeak and tried to make a break for the door but Mal cut him off, driving the heel of her hand into his stomach. She kicked his left leg out from underneath him and rammed her elbow into his temple, knocking him out cold.

"Mal! What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, lunging forward. She held up her hand, warding him off.

"That's not Sam," she said darkly. Dean jerked to a halt.

"Demon?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Cas?"

Castiel knelt beside the fallen young man and pressed his first two fingers against his forehead. "No, it is a human," he said, sounding surprised. "A boy, named Gary Frankle. He used a spell to switch bodies with Sam. Oh."

"Oh?" Dean echoed.

"He intended to turn you over to a demon bounty hunter," Castiel said casually, getting to his feet.

"Is that all," Dean snarked. "Okay. Where the hell is Sam?"

"I will retrieve him," Cas said. He looked over at Mal. "Stay with Dean. Rest."

She nodded. "Okay."

Castiel reached over to squeeze her shoulder before nodding at Dean and vanishing. Dean looked down and toed the body at his feet. "We can't stay here," he told Mal. "Maid saw the guns. We were just moving out."

"There's another motel across town," Mal said, picking up one of the duffels. "We checked there for you guys first."

They loaded the car before manhandling Sam's hijacked body into the back seat, Dean taking the precautionary measure of cuffing him. Mal dropped into the passenger seat with a huff of air and a wince.

"You okay?" Dean asked quickly, eying her closely.

She rubbed at her stomach. "Yeah, fine. Just still a little sore."

"Didn't Ami heal you?"

"Mostly," Mal replied. She pulled up her sweatshirt to reveal four parallel scars raking diagonally across her abdomen. "She didn't have the energy to go one hundred percent, though. That exorcism of Meg's really wiped her out."

"Next time I see that bitch, I'm gonna rip her heart out," Dean growled as they left the motel parking lot. Mallory snorted.

"Get in line."

Dean waited a few minutes, and then began, "So if Kadmiel got to you right before the explosion, where've you been for the last week and a half?"

"Unconscious, mostly," Mallory said, turning from where she'd been staring out the window. "Ami and I slept for over forty-eight hours right after re-joining. After that we could barely walk a couple of yards without getting dizzy and falling over. Kadmiel had to leave almost right away so her garrison wouldn't get suspicious, or she would have helped." She shrugged. "This is the first time Cas has let us out, and he insisted on carrying me."

"Is Ami...can she..."

"Oh, she's awake," Mal assured him. "I just really wanted to be in control when we saw you guys again." She turned to look at Gary. "Guess I should have figured something like this would happen."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of the Winchesters," Dean muttered, but still smiled. Maybe today wasn't so terrible, after all. He reached over and punched Mallory playfully in the shoulder. "Good to have you back, kid."

She grinned at him. "Thanks."

XxxXxxX

Sam was officially having a Bad Day. Not only was he tied up by a demon (_again_), but he wasn't even in his own body. And because the body he was currently inhabiting belonged to a scrawny adolescent boy, he was unable to do anything except watch as said demon slaughtered his remaining captor. Not, of course, that he hadn't seen this coming since the idiot opened his mouth. Even the demon had to acknowledge the boy's stupidity.

The demon formerly known as Nora grinned at Sam with bloody teeth and sauntered towards the door. Castiel appeared in front of her, grabbed her by the throat, and tossed her across the basement. "Hello, Sam," he greeted with a nod.

"Cas!" Sam grinned in relief. "Good to see you."

The demon rolled to her feet and hissed angrily at the angel, who merely drew his sword and strode forward. She tried to dodge around him to escape, but he seized hold of her hair and yanked her back, placing his blade across her throat.

"Wait!" Sam called. Cas paused and looked up inquiringly at Sam, ignoring the demon's struggles to get free. "The host," Sam went on. "She's just a girl. None of this was her fault." Cas nodded and Sam felt his bonds slacken. As he stood and shook the ropes off, Castiel tossed him the angel-sword.

"Quickly," he ordered.

The sword easily carved through the linoleum floor, and Sam soon had a completed devil's trap ready. Castiel dragged the still-protesting demon over threw her down in the middle of the trap. Sam was already invoking the exorcism, the Latin phrases rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. It was only a few moments before the demon fled and Nora collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Cas lifted the girl in his arms. "I will take her home," he told Sam. He was back a moment later and put his hand on Sam's arm. Before Sam had time to blink, they were in a motel room. Dean was just heaving Sam's body onto one of the beds and turned around. He blinked upon seeing Sam.

"Wow," he said. "You're short."

Sam pulled a face at him. "Shut up, Dean." He glanced over at his comatose body. "Okay, that is really weird. How soon can we get things back to normal?"

"As soon as we know what spell was used," Castiel assured him, walking over to the body on the bed. Before he reached it however, the motel door swung open.

"Seriously, Dean? _Jon Arbuckle_?" Mallory walked into the room, her attention fixed on the credit card in one hand. "Please tell me this was a last resort." She looked up when the room fell silent and glanced around, her gaze finally falling on Sam, who was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. She blinked a couple of times. "Sam?" she asked in disbelief.

"You're not dead," was what came out of Sam's mouth.

"You're short," she blurted back.

Sam was completely caught off-guard and surprised himself by laughing. He started forward, stumbling when he realized his legs were shorter than he was used to, and came to a halt directly in front of Mallory. She was only a few inches shorter than him. "You're not dead," he said again, gently accusing.

"Angels," she explained with a lopsided smile. She reached up and brushed her fingertips along his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he assured her. Her smile grew a little more and she touched his cheek again.

"This is so weird. And I mean weird even by our standards." She looked over Sam's shoulder at Cas. "We're fixing this, right?"

Instead of replying, Castiel reached down and touched the unconscious Gary's forehead. He woke up with a jerk and a cry. "What? Who—Ah!" He recoiled upon seeing Castiel standing over him, scrabbling backwards and almost falling off the bed.

"What spell did you use to switch bodies with Sam Winchester?" Cas demanded, glowering at the boy. He stammered for a moment in reply. "Do not test me, boy, I will take the answer directly from your mind if need be."

"I'd do it if I were you," Dean said casually, leaning against the wall. "You won't like him when he's angry."

Gary stared around at the hostile faces, two of which were unfamiliar. "Who are you people?" he asked. Dean pushed off from the wall and pointed at Cas.

"Angel," he said, and pointed at Mal. "Also an angel. Well, sometimes."

"Holy crap," Gary whispered. "Holy freakin' crap. This—this wasn't supposed to happen. Not—not like this. Oh, my God."

Castiel reached over and grabbed Gary by the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet. "The spell," Cas growled in the boy's face.

"Okay, okay, okay," Gary babbled. "Just please, please don't hurt me."

Castiel released him and he stumbled backwards. Mallory strode up to him and Gary flinched away, obviously still smarting from their last encounter. She jabbed a finger in his chest. "Be grateful Sam wasn't hurt," she said in a deadly voice.

"Yeah, you won't like her when she's angry, either," Dean quipped.

Gary stuttered so much through the counter-spell that Sam was almost afraid it wouldn't work. Towards the end of the unfamiliar chant, a wave of dizziness hit him and he was glad he was sitting down as he almost blacked out. He screwed his eyes shut and lifted his hand to his head. The nausea slowly lifted, the ringing in his ears dying until he could hear Mallory calling his name.

"Sam? Hey, are you all right?" She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down from his face and he risked opening his eyes. The world stayed reassuringly still. "Sam?" Mallory called again. "That you?"

"Did it work?" Sam asked, his voice a little rough. Mallory broke out into a relieved grin and took his face in both hands, pressing a quick kiss onto his mouth. Sam blinked as she pulled away. "Guess it did."

Dean coughed noisily and Mallory blushed bright red, stepping back and shooting an ineffectual glare at the older Winchester. Across from where Sam was sitting, Cas had his hand clamped on the shoulder of the body Sam had recently been inhabiting, which was looking rather ill. Sam got to his feet, stretching to his reclaimed height, and surreptitiously tested his extremities. Damn, it felt good to be back in his own body.

And only in his life would he actually have cause to think that.

He looked down at Mal, who was studiously looking in a different direction. "Mal," he said softly. Her head whipped around. He extended one arm. "C'mere." She lunged into the embrace, her head not even coming up to his shoulder. Dean watched with a odd quirk to his mouth until he caught Sam's glare and smirked. He slapped Cas' shoulder with the back of his hand.

"C'mon. Let's get Gary here back home."

Cas easily dragged Gary to his feet and the three of them vanished. Mallory peeked over Sam's arm and saw that they were gone. "They didn't have to leave," she mumbled, but didn't move to disentangle herself from Sam.

"So, I guess Kadmiel got to you in time?" Sam asked. She nodded against his chest.

"One minute I'm nose-to-snout with a hellhound, the next I've got Ami pouring into my head and then it kinda goes dark. Actually, most of the time from then until yesterday is blurry." She pulled away. "That's kinda why we didn't make contact sooner," she said apologetically. "We weren't even sure if Ami and I were going to survive, and if we didn't," she shrugged. "There was no point in telling you guys."

"But you're okay," Sam said, because he had to hear it out loud. "You and Ami. You're okay."

"We're okay," she reassured him. Sam shook his head and laughed ruefully.

"You've got to stop doing this to us."

XxxXxxX

"_They're releasing Jo tomorrow,"_ Ellen told Bobby. Bobby wedged the phone more securely against his shoulder and reached for the glass bottle on the corner of his desk.

"That's good to hear. How's she holding up?"

"_She's not too happy. Doc says she can't walk for a few weeks, and she'll be on crutches for a few more. So no hunting."_

"Bet you're happy about that," Bobby said, pouring out a couple fingers of whiskey. He tossed the alcohol back and grimaced at the burn.

"_You'd think, right? I just feel guilty about not being able to back y'all up if you need it."_

"You got your priorities," Bobby told his old friend. "You need to take care of your girl."

"_Speaking of which, how're those boys of yours?"_

"None too good," Bobby replied with a weary sigh. "They had a rough hunt in a mental hospital, shook 'em up some. Sam gets twitchy every time you mention _her_ name and to make matters worse, no one's seen hide nor hair of Cas. If Dean doesn't stop moping around, I'm liable to shoot something. Probably him."

"_Sounds like you got y our hands full."_

"Don't I know it," Bobby muttered. The lock on the front door turned and the door banged open.

"Bobby! We're home!" Dean called from the entryway.

"Ellen, I gotta call you back," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. "The kids just arrived."

"_All right. You tell 'em I said hi."_

"Will do." Bobby hung up and turned to see Sam and Dean jostle each other to be the first through the door into the library, each of them carrying a duffel bag. Dean won and Sam growled at him.

"Jerk," he accused.

"Bitch," Dean tossed over his shoulder as he headed straight to the kitchen, dropping his bag as he went. "Hey, Bobby."

"Dean," Bobby greeted, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sam tossed his bag next to Dean's and plopped down onto the couch, stretching out his long legs. In the kitchen, Bobby could hear the fridge door open and bottles clink together.

"Get me one, too," Sam called, kicking off his boots and spreading out with loose-limbed grace. Bobby stared at Sam for a moment, and then at Dean when he reappeared with three bottles, handing Sam one.

"All right," Bobby finally growled. "What are you two idjits up to?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"I haven't seen you two this cheerful in months," Bobby accused. "What's going on?"

"I take it they haven't arrived yet," Dean said aside to Sam, who chuckled and took a pull from his bottle.

Bobby growled again. "Dean..."

Dean held up his hands defensively. "Don't blame me. They said they were gonna meet us here."

The papers on Bobby's desk stirred slightly, almost but not quite covering a very familiar sound. Bobby froze, his eyes still on Dean's face, which now wore a knowing smirk. Bobby slowly turned around.

"Sorry we're late," Amitiel said, stepping away from Castiel's side. "I trust your drive was uneventful?" The two angels strolled into the library, Amitiel delicately taking a seat next to Sam and Cas going over to join Dean. Dean handed Cas the third beer bottle, and the angel only hesitated a moment before accepting.

Bobby stared at Amitiel for several seconds. Then he jabbed a finger in her direction. "You've got some explaining to do, girl," he said gruffly.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean walked into the kitchen just in time to see Sam throw a blueberry across the room and Mallory (he was assuming it was Mallory) catch it in her mouth. She threw up her hands in triumph as Sam laughed.

"You two are officially weird," Dean announced and headed for the coffee pot. Mallory made a face at him, grabbed a spatula, and flipped the pancakes on the griddle. She put the spatula down, picked up a plate, and shoved it into Dean's hands. He stared down at the steaming blueberry pancakes.

"Never mind," he said, sitting down at the table.

"Did you see Cas on your way down?" Sam asked, getting more plates down from the cabinet.

"No, why?" Dean asked with his mouth full.

Sam shrugged. "Haven't seen him all morning. We were wondering if he even stayed the night."

Mallory deposited more pancakes on another plate. "Bobby!" she yelled. "You hungry?" Bobby rolled in from the library and Mallory put the plate on the table for him. "Ami's not concerned about him," she told Sam. "He probably just got cabin fever or something."

"Huh," Sam replied. "More coffee?"

"Please," Mal nodded. "Cream, two sugars."

"Bobby, what d'you got for us?" Dean asked, still shoveling pancakes into his mouth.

"Do I look like your agent?" Bobby snapped back. "You're perfectly capable of figuring out your own next move."

"I think he means are there any Apocalypse things going on," Mal said, handing Sam a plate of his own.

"Wouldn't you know better then me?" Bobby asked, raising one eyebrow.

Mal tapped the side of her head. "Ami and I've been out of the loop. That might be what Cas went to go check out."

"It's been too quiet on the Apocalypse front since Carthage," Dean put in. "I don't like it."

"Calm before the storm," Sam agreed. Mallory nodded and sipped her coffee.

"How's Jo?" she asked suddenly. "She and Ellen are okay, right?"

Bobby nodded. "That reminds me, I need to call 'em and let them know you're alive. Jo's fine but she's out of commission. She and Ellen are gonna be sitting things out for a while."

Mallory nodded again and used the spatula to transfer another pancake onto Dean's almost-empty plate. She likewise gave Sam another before plopping down in his lap and stealing a bite from his plate. Dean snorted and ignored them but Bobby's eyebrows disappeared under his cap. Sam just reached around Mal for his coffee mug.

Cas appeared in the middle of the kitchen, causing all of them to look up. "We need to talk," he said gravely.

Sam felt the change in Mal almost instantly and Amitiel slowly set down the fork. "What is it?" she asked her brother.

"There's something..." Castiel trailed off and twitched his head to the side, a frown creasing his brow. Amitiel got off Sam's lap and walked over to Cas. He reached up and put his fingers against her temple, and the female angel frowned.

"You're certain?" she asked, reaching up to touch his hand, still resting against her head.

"Yes," Cas replied.

"What is it?" Dean demanded, getting to his feet. "Guys, what's going on?"

Castiel transferred his gaze to Dean. "Zachariah is on the move," he replied. Then he looked back at Ami. "We have to go, now."

"Wait!" Dean called, lunging forward, but it was too late. The angels were gone. "Freakin' angels!" Dean growled.

XxxXxxX

Amitiel looked around at the newly-made clearing in the middle of the forest. The trees were flattened to the ground, radiating out from where they stood. Castiel turned to take in the view, his sword in his hand. "We're too late," he said roughly.

"No," Amitiel replied. She lifted a hand to point at a figure moving amongst the fallen trees. "There."

As they watched, two more figures converged on the white-clad first one. Castiel and Amitiel broke out into a run before spreading their wings and shifting closer to the distant trio. Amitiel grabbed one of the angels by the shoulder and spun him around, driving her sword towards his heart. He blocked with his own blade, slamming the heel of his hand into her chest. Amitiel stumbled backwards but still managed to duck a wide swing at her throat, dropping to one knee and slamming her fist into her opponent's knee. She regained her feet just as he stumbled and grabbed his arm, yanking him further off balance. She threw him down onto his back and crouched to deliver the fatal blow when he drove his knee into her stomach.

Amitiel gasped as pain exploded from her still-tender injuries. She instinctively curled up to protect herself from further harm and the other angel threw her off of him. Amitiel groaned as she tried to fight down the pain, reaching for her dropped sword. The other angel resumed his pursuit of his original target, grabbing the human roughly by the throat.

Amitiel looked around for her brother but Castiel was still locked in a struggle with the second enemy angel. Amitiel forced herself to her feet and stumbled forward, straightening despite the protest of partially-healed muscles. She reached her opponent and flung herself at his back, locking one arm around his neck and driving her sword through his chest. It missed his heart but Grace still burst from the wound. He screamed and released his prisoner, dropping to his knees. Amitiel kept her hold on him. She yanked her sword free and stepped back. Then she plunged her sword through the back of the angel's neck. His Grace exploded before he hit the ground, his wings burning to ash in the air. Amitiel stood over his corpse for a moment, dripping sword in one hand and other arm wrapped around her stomach.

Behind her, white light flashed and another body thumped to the ground. She looked over her shoulder to see Castiel staring mournfully down at yet another brother slain by their hands. Amitiel closed her eyes and lowered her head, offering up a brief prayer. Then she dismissed her blade back to its storage place and turned to look at the human they had just rescued.

The woman was breathing heavily, looking from Amitiel to Castiel with wide, blue eyes. She was dressed in a white nightgown that was now streaked and stained with dirt. Amitiel glanced quickly at Castiel, but he was as surprised as she was. Amitiel sighed, shook her head, and stepped forward, extending her hand.

"Don't be afraid," she said softly. "My name is Amitiel. I'm an angel of the Lord. We're here to help you."

Mary Winchester continued staring up at them and didn't say a word.

XxxXxxX

"C'mon, Cas, what're you doing?" Dean demanded, taking a step forward. Castiel didn't budge from his place in front of the closed kitchen door.

"I don't think it's wise for you to see her at the moment," he said again.

"Cas, it's our _mother_," Dean protested.

"And she's been dead for twenty-seven years," Castiel pointed out. "She's disoriented and confused. Let Amitiel explain things to her first."

"In the meantime, we might want to be trying to figure out why Zachariah brought her back," Bobby said, scratching at his beard. He looked to Sam expectantly only to see the young man sitting at the table, face blank and eyes staring at nothing. His fingers were drumming soundlessly on the kitchen table. "Sam, you okay?"

Sam blinked and visibly shook himself. "Yeah," he said quickly. "It's just..." he trailed off, eyes darting to the doorway.

"I know," Bobby said softly. "It's your mother."

"But you're right," Sam went on. "Zachariah has got to have a damn good reason for raising her." He looked at Cas. "You've protected her, right? Done the sigil thing?"

"Yes," Cas assured him. He went on, "If Amitiel and I had not been there, she would be in Zachariah's custody now."

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean said bluntly, crossing his arms. Everyone looked at him. "He wants to use her against us. Get us to play ball."

A look of horror briefly crossed Sam's face. "It's starting to get uncomfortable how well the angels know us," he said.

XxxXxxX

The story was long and circuitous, but Amitiel tried to stay with the bare minimum of facts, outlining what she felt Mary would need to know. The whole time she spoke, she never took her eyes from the human woman's face, registering each emotion and analyzing it, often with Mallory's help, to ensure it was the correct response. She was not going to take any chances where Zachariah was involved. Not when Sam and Dean might be threatened.

When she was finally done, Amitiel sat and waited. Mary looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She opened them, clenched them, and then ran her thumbs along her fingertips. "Twenty-seven years?" she finally asked in a surprisingly even voice.

"Yes," Amitiel replied.

"And my sons...they're adults now. Hunters."

"Yes," Amitiel said again.

Mary clenched her fists again. "John..." she whispered. "What did you do to my boys?" Amitiel decided that there was probably nothing she could say to that and remained silent.

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Everything was too sharp, too bright, too chaotic. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the events of the last few hours. She'd grown up a hunter. Strange things were normal for her. But this...not this.

"I want to see Dean and Sam," she said, opening her eyes and lifting her head.

"Are you certain?" Amitiel asked. An angel. Angels were real. Yet another unbelievable thing.

Mary nodded firmly. "I need to see them. I need to be sure..."

The petite woman got to her feet with a nod. "Very well." She crossed over to the door into the kitchen and pushed it open. Standing directly behind it was the other angel. Castiel. Mary mouthed the unfamiliar name. "She's ready," Amitiel told him. He nodded and stepped aside.

The first man who stepped through the door was tall. Not as tall as John had been, though. His hair was lighter, too and his eyes...Mary could tell their color from across the room. Vibrant, emerald green. _Dean. _Mary rose unsteadily to her feet, one hand traveling to her mouth. Dean looked just as unsure as she felt, hesitating right in the doorway. Mary's eyes continued to devour him. She could see John in him, the line of the jaw and the curve of the cheek, but there was so much of herself looking back.

A tiny sob escaped from behind her hand and Mary fought to keep the tears at bay. "Dean," she whispered.

"Hi, mom," he whispered back, taking a step forward. His place in the doorway was almost immediately taken by another man. Mary tore her eyes away from Dean to look at the newcomer. Her hand dropped and her mouth fell open. The second man was a literal giant, several inches taller than Dean and broader across in the shoulders. His hair was longer and darker, falling away from a broad forehead. Intelligent, blue-hazel eyes peered at her with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"Oh, my God," Mary forced out. "Oh, God. _Sam_."

"Mom," Sam said, his voice filled with wonder. He stepped into the room, next to Dean. Mary pushed away from the couch, walked up to them, not bothering to stop the tears. She put her hand against Dean's cheek and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly. She half-turned and did the same to Sam.

"My boys. Look at you," she said, her voice rough. She hugged Dean and she felt him hesitate only for a moment before closing his arms around her, pressing his face against her hair. She pulled away only because of Sam, who looked as if he could believe what was going on. He hugged her as if she was going to break, and when she stepped back so she could look at them again, he released her only reluctantly.

"I have so many questions, I don't know where to begin," Mary said, half laughing through her tears. "Twenty-seven years...it's such a long time."

Dean laughed unevenly. "Like you would not believe," he said, managing to summon a half smile.

There was a loud, awkward cough and everyone turned to look at the source. Dean and Sam edged out of the way so Mary could see the wheelchair-bound man in the kitchen doorway. "I'm sure no one's offered yet, ma'am," he said politely with a glare at the boys, "But is there anything we can get you?"

Sam colored and Dean scratched the back of his neck. Mary laughed breathlessly. "No, I'm fine," she assured him. "Thank you."

The man rolled forward. He was rather gruff-looking, wearing an old trucker's cap and a scruffy beard. He extended a hand. "Bobby Singer. You're welcome here for as long as you want, Mrs. Winchester." He paused for a moment, and then added. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Just Mary will be fine," Mary replied, taking his hand. It was rough and calloused, but his grip was gentle. "Thank you for your hospitality. Amitiel told me you're a close friend of Dean and Sam's." Bobby nodded wordlessly. Mary smiled at him. "Thank you for taking care of my boys," she said softly.

He looked away and coughed again. "Right. Well. I'll leave y'all to catch up. Don't mind me." He rolled out of the room quickly.

Mary took a deep breath and turned to her sons. "Actually," she said, "On second thought, I could really use a beer."

XxxXxxX

Amitiel reappeared in the living room and shook out her tawny-gold wings. They had healed during her and Mallory's convalescence, bones re-fusing after Meg had shattered them with a spell. She shuffled them back into place, making a mental note to get Castiel's help to groom them later. On earth, wings needed almost constant attention to maintain, and she knew her brother was neglecting his own.

She placed the plastic bags down on the coffee table. She could hear Sam's and Dean's voices coming from the kitchen, and reached briefly out to the spark of her Grace nestled against Sam's soul. Confirming that he was fine, Amitiel carefully unpacked the contents of the bags.

"_You're certain this is all needed?"_ she asked Mallory within.

_She got dropped on earth wearing a nightgown,_ the girl replied. _Trust me, she's gonna want this stuff._

Amitiel shrugged and finished laying the clothing out. _"That was an...interesting experience,"_ she said after a moment.

_You've never gone shopping before, have you?_ Mallory asked, amused.

"_You know the answer to that question."_

The child laughed and Amitiel smiled. It was good to hear her laugh. It was good to be back with Mallory again. Amitiel was not surprised in the slightest how much she had missed the young human during their time separated.

Bobby rolled in and looked at the neat stacks of clothing and toiletries. "I was wondering where you went off to. Where's Cas?"

"Meeting with Kadmiel We hoped she would have more information as to Zachariah's plans."

"And you trust her?" Bobby asked, cocking an eyebrow. Amitiel resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"How many times must I say yes before you believe me?" she asked in exasperation.

"She's still on their side," Bobby pointed out.

"I believe your word is double-agent," Amitiel shot back. "It is useful to have her with the armies of heaven."

"But you're absolutely sure she's not going to turn on you if they turn the heat on her?" Bobby pressed.

Amitiel closed her eyes briefly, remembering the sight of Kadmiel standing over the corpse of their sister, the assassin who was to be her and Castiel's murderer. "Yes," she said in a low voice.

Bobby nodded. "Okay," he said sceptically.

Castiel landed a few inches away from Amitiel and she ducked to avoid his silver pinions as he folded his wings out of the way. She looked up, a question on her lips, but it died when she saw his troubled expression.

"What is it?" she demanded.

He exhaled through his nose, wings hunching and half-curling around his body in an instinctive search for reassurance. "Anna has escaped from heaven."


	11. Chapter 11

Mary padded silently down the stairs, having noted which were the squeaky steps the night before. They had insisted she take the guest room even though she knew there was no chance she'd sleep at all. She'd spent the entire night with Sam's computer (after he'd shown her how to use the Internet) to try to better understand the world she'd been dropped into.

The boys were asleep in the living room. There was a second guest bedroom, but Sam and Dean had assured her that they were used to and comfortable sleeping in the living room. Sam had taken the couch while Dean snored from the cot shoved against the wall. Mary paused for a moment to watch them sleep before moving past them into the kitchen.

"Is everything all right?"

Mary jumped at the voice and spun around to see Amitiel standing by the back door. She was wearing a button-up shirt that was far too big for her, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was braided back from her face and out of her shuttered, gray eyes.. A big, black German Shepherd stood at her side, and one of her hands rested on his shoulders.

"Yeah, it's fine," Mary said. She gestured toward the coffee maker. "I recognize the basics, but it's not exactly what I'm used to."

The girl smiled and moved in, setting about making the coffee. At a quiet word, the dog went and laid down under the table, blowing a sigh but never taking his eyes off of the girl. Mary watched for a moment and then commented, "You do the shopping and make the coffee. Not the usual jobs for an angel, I'm assuming."

The girl laughed. "Oh, I think Ami has a vague knowledge of coffee as an abstract concept, but she viewed shopping as a study in how dependent us humans are on physical possessions," she said conversationally. She glanced over, saw Mary's expression, and smiled again. "I'm not Amitiel. I'm Mallory. I'm the vessel, or host, I guess you could say. Ami shares my body while she's on earth."

"Share," Mary echoed. "You do this willingly?"

Mallory nodded. "Oh, yes. Angels can only take a vessel who's agreed to it. Most angels don't actually let their vessels take turns controlling the body, but Ami and I...we're different. More like friends."

"Oh?" Mary asked curiously. Mallory raised her eyebrows.

"You want to hear the whole story?" she asked. "It's pretty long."

"Amitiel only gave me the bare bones yesterday," Mary said. Mallory poured two mugs of coffee and handed Mary one.

"She did tell you about the Apocalypse, right?"

"Wouldn't you know?" Mary asked. "I mean, you were there."

Mallory shrugged. "I wasn't paying much attention. Ami and I aren't exactly up to snuff at the moment and the one who's not in control tends to just sleep. But judging from your lack of surprise, I take it she did."

"Yes," Mary nodded, taking a seat at the table.

"Okay, then." Mallory took a deep breath. "Here goes. So, about three months ago Dean almost ran me over with his car..."

Twenty minutes later, Mallory sat across from Mary, a forgotten cup of cooling coffee in her hands. "Kadmiel yanked me out of the store right before the explosion and dumped Ami back into my body, and we spent the next week and a half sleeping until Cas finally decided to let us out of bed and we met back up with Sam and Dean."

Mary put down her coffee mug. "Why are you still here?" she asked, her brow furrowed. Mallory froze and looked up at her, head tilted inquiringly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why haven't you tried to leave, to get out? Go home? Everything that's happened to you..." Mary shook her head. "You weren't raised to this. This isn't your life."

"It is now," Mallory replied softly. She straightened and looked Mary straight in the eye. "When I agreed to be Amitiel's vessel, I agreed to leave everything behind. Her and Cas, Bobby and Sam and Dean...they're my family now. I won't leave them. Not ever."

Castiel appeared in the middle of the kitchen with the sound of fluttering wings. Mary startled, almost spilling her coffee, but Mallory just turned to face him. "Any news?" she asked.

The male angel shook his head wearily. "No. Not yet." Mallory wrinkled her nose and rubbed her forehead. She nodded toward the living room. "Go wake the boys up. Coffee's getting cold."

Castiel gave her a look but obediently went. Mary followed him out with her eyes, noting the familiarity with which she treated the angel. But it did make a kind of sense. "Where's Bobby?" she asked.

"Went into town to pick up a book," Mallory replied, setting the plates of food onto the table. "We had a fire in the library a while back, lost most of his collection. He's been slowly rebuilding it."

Castiel walked back into the kitchen, followed by Sam. "Good morning," he said almost shyly to Mary.

"Good morning," she replied. "You sleep okay?"

Sam bobbed his head, strangely tongue-tied despite being effusive the night before. Although the amount of beer they'd gone through might have helped with that. Mallory got up and poured him some coffee, adding milk and sugar without having to ask.

When she handed it to Sam, he reached over and tugged on her shirt. "You know, we can always just get you some of your own," he teased.

She batted his hand away. "I like yours," she replied.

Mary's gaze bounced between them, watching and filing all the information away for future reference. Sam chose the seat next to her and the dog got to his feet and shoved his head in Sam's lap. Sam obligingly scratched his ears.

Dean appeared in the doorway, still pulling on his shirt. When his head popped free he caught sight of his mother and colored faintly. "Hey, uh, Cas," he said quickly. "Had a weird dream last night."

The angel's head whipped around, blue eyes intense. "Did Anna contact you?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Kadmiel told me she'd escaped last night. We've been waiting for this to happen. What did she tell you?"

"She wanted us to meet her," Dean said frowning. "Cas, what's wrong? This is Anna we're talking about."

"This is not the Anna that you knew," Castiel replied, shaking his head. "Her time in heaven may have...shifted her motivations."

"Who is Anna?" Mary asked, cutting through the conversation.

"Another fallen angel," Mallory replied quickly. "We thought she was on our side, but we're not sure anymore."

Castiel nodded. "I told Kadmiel I would alert her as soon as we made contact with Anna. Amitiel, Kadmiel and I will go to meet her and try to ascertain her intentions."

Mary's gaze darted to the girl standing next to her just in time to see a change come over her. It was incredibly subtle, but every single one of her mannerisms changed. Her face grew grave and almost angular, her eyes going dark with age and wisdom. So this was the difference between Mallory and Amitiel.

The female angel pushed away from the table and made her way towards Castiel, briefly placing her hand on Sam's shoulder as she passed his seat. Sam met her gaze with a slight frown and she nodded as if reply to a silent question. Then the two angels vanished.

Mary cleared her throat. "They do that a lot?" she asked.

Dean sighed. "Oh, yeah."

XxxXxxX

Castiel was waiting when Anna appeared in the abandoned warehouse. To external appearances, she looked exactly the same as she had when Castiel had last seen her, before his own fall from heaven. But to his other senses, she was worn and weary, feathers missing from her dove-gray wings.

"Where's Sam and Dean?" she asked immediately, her blue-green eyes narrowed suspiciously at her former subordinate.

"I came instead," Castiel replied. "I can bring your message to them."

"I really need to talk to them personally," Anna said sharply. Her body was tense, as if for combat, and her wings were drawn up in a defensive posture, probably unconsciously.

"You need to explain to me why you brought that knife," Castiel said, nodding toward her right hand.

She looked down and a large hunting knife slid down her sleeve. "I have to defend myself. Heaven is hunting me."

"That won't kill an angel," Castiel pointed out. "But this will," he went on, drawing his own sword.

"Cas, we're on the same side now," Anna said, her voice almost pleading.

"Why did you want to meet the Winchesters?" Castiel growled, flaring his wings threateningly, reminding Anna that she was weak and still recovering. He could overpower her.

"The Apocalypse has to be stopped," Anna said urgently. "_Lucifer_ has to be stopped. It's the only way."

It was Castiel's turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. "By killing Sam Winchester," he said slowly, realizing her intent. His voice hardened. "They will just bring him back."

"Not if I scatter his atoms across the universe," Anna said, her voice flat.

A growl rumbled deep in Castiel's chest. "You won't come near him," he told her. Her grip tightened on her knife.

"Cas, you have to realize, I don't want to do this," she said quickly. "I hold no ill will against Sam. But he is Lucifer's chosen vessel. If he is gone, there can be no battle with Michael. The Apocalypse will end. It's what we all want."

"Not at the cost of his life," Castiel replied.

"He's a single human," she snapped.

"He is my friend," he growled back.

For a moment the two angels stood glaring at each other. Then Anna's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and her wings snapped out before Castiel could stop her.

Nothing happened. Anna's eyes widened in shock and she tried once more to flee. Again, nothing happened. Castiel never removed his icy gaze from her face. "You think I came alone?" he growled.

Kadmiel and Amitiel stepped out of the shadows, walking forward to flank their brother. Anna's gaze darted between them. "A perimeter," she realized. "Why?"

"Because we don't trust you," Amitiel said softly, her expression shuttered. "I am so sorry for what you've been through, Anna, but we couldn't take the risk."

"So what now?" Anna demanded. "You're going to drag me back to heaven. Is that why you're here?" she snapped at Kadmiel. "You'll take me while standing right next to them?" She flung her hand out toward her fellow defectors.

Kadmiel said nothing, her expression wooden.

"You hypocrite!" Anna raged. "You think you can play at freedom without getting your hands dirty? While still being a good little mindless drone for heaven? And you, Cas! You never would have rebelled without my encouragement. Without me you never would have broken free. Amitiel!" She turned to glare at the shorter angel. "The angel of truth. You know that I'm right."

"You speak the truth," Amitiel replied, not meeting Anna's gaze. "As long as Sam lives, there is a greater chance that Lucifer will win the war."

"Then why are you—"

"Because I believe he will make the right choice," Amitiel cut her off, her voice barely above a whisper. She lifted her eyes to meet Anna's and the sheer rage contained in the storm-dark depths rocked Anna back onto her heels. "And if you harm my Marked, I will destroy you."

Kadmiel took a step forward. Anna jumped backwards. "Take me back and I'll just tell them that you've allied yourself with fallen angels," she threatened.

"I am not taking you back to heaven," Kadmiel said, her sword sliding down her sleeve. "Those were not my orders."

Anna flung the knife in her hand at Kadmiel and bolted at the same time. The blade buried itself to the hilt in Kadmiel's chest, causing her to stumble a step backwards. Castiel and Amitiel had already taken off after Anna. They had to catch her before she reached the edge of the perimeter or she would be lost to them.

Ami reached her first, flicking her sword into her hand and raking the point against Anna's wings. Anna cried out and stumbled, blood blossoming among the gray feathers. She whirled around, her own sword in hand, and struck back at her sister. Castiel reached them and Anna ducked under his blade. She knew she couldn't hold out long against three opponents; her only hope was to leave the perimeter. But as Anna parried a blow from Castiel, Amitiel struck out at her wings again, seeking to disable her. It was surprisingly non-lethal, startling Anna enough to provide an opening. Castiel barreled into her bodily, knocking her to the ground and pinning her with his blade across her throat.

Anna hissed defiantly at him. "Finish it!"

Kadmiel joined them, the wound from the knife already completely gone. "We never intended to kill you, Anna," she said. "Those were my orders, but I've gotten in the habit of ignoring them recently." She got down on one knee.

"What are you doing?" Anna demanded, twisting and fighting to get free. Castiel moved off of her, blade never lifting from her throat, and held down her right arm. Amitiel clamped onto the left.

"You are our sister," Amitiel said. "We've killed enough of our siblings."

"What are you doing?" Anna cried again.

"Please don't struggle," Kadmiel said, drawing her sword and lowering the point to Anna's chest. "This is going to hurt enough already."

XxxXxxX

"We've got a triple in violent crimes in St. Louis, Cattle mutilations outside of Waco, water turning to blood in Raleigh, and the entire population of Avondale, Colorado is missing," Bobby said. He re-checked his notes. "Oh, and some guy in Dayton survived being struck by lightening. Four times."

Dean rubbed his face and groaned. "Okay, so the boards lighting up with Revelation signs," he said wearily. "What are we supposed to do, Bobby? Where are we supposed to start?"

The crippled hunter tossed his notebook onto his desk. "The hell should I know? Ask our angel friends when they get back. It's their war, innit? We're just the foot soldiers."

"Do we have any recent information on Lucifer?" asked Mary from where she stood leaning against the doorway. Everyone jumped, not having noticed her there.

"He did a spell about a week ago that bound Death to his service," Sam told her. Mary frowned.

"Death. Actual Death?"

"As in Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Dean confirmed. "We already met War a couple of months ago."

"And?" Mary pressed.

"Wasted him," Dean told her. She smiled briefly, a flash of pride in her eyes.

"So two of them are accounted for," she went on, her expression growing sober again. "What about Famine and Pestilence?"

"Nothing," Bobby said, shaking his head. "Well, unless you count the increase in swine flu cases."

Sam gave him a funny look. "You actually looked into that?"

"Boy, I'm looking into everything," Bobby growled back. Mary walked into the library and joined Sam on the couch.

"Have we established consistent omens preceding an appearance of Lucifer?" she asked, leaning forward and propping her elbows on her knees.

Bobby shook his head. "No. The only time we've confirmed his presence anywhere was in Carthage, and that whole town was just gone."

Sam straightened. "What did you say earlier? Avondale, Colorado?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied, brow furrowing. "You think he might have been there?"

"He needed the population of Carthage for as hosts for his demon sacrifice," Sam said, drumming his fingers against his knee. "Could he be gearing up for something like that again?"

"God, I hope not," Dean said. "What would he be summoning this time?"

"Maybe we should go to Avondale," Mary suggested.

"Hell, no," Dean said forcefully. Everyone turned to look at him. "Last time we went up against Lucifer, we almost lost two of our own. We have nothing that can even come close to stopping him, not even the Colt. We gotta be smart about this. We can't face him directly. Not yet."

Sam swallowed and looked down. Mary reached over and took one of his hands, squeezing reassuringly. He looked up at her and she smiled faintly. "We'll think of something else, then," she said firmly. She got to her feet and turned to Bobby. "You got a car I can borrow?"

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

Mary rolled her eyes slightly. "I've seen the kitchen in this place. You've got coffee and booze and just about nothing else. When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

"I can take you into town if you want," Sam instantly offered. Mary shook her head.

"You keep working on this. I can handle getting some groceries."

"Then here," Dean said, rising from his chair and digging in his pocket. "Take the Impala." He handed her the keys. She took them with a soft smile.

"I can't believe he kept the car," she said quietly.

"We kinda got attached to it," Dean said dryly and Sam laughed.

"We practically _lived_ in it growing up," he told his mother.

Her smile faded. "Yes," she said. "I heard that." She shook herself free from whatever had come over her and smiled again. "I'll be back in an hour or so." She retrieved the jacket Amitiel had given her and headed out the front door. As she stepped off the porch, the world suddenly exploded in blinding, white light.

The keys hit the gravel with a dull jangle.


	12. Chapter 12

When Castiel landed in the middle of the living room of Bobby's house, he barely had time to fold his wings back into place before Dean grabbed the front of his coat and shook him. "Where the hell have you been?" Dean yelled.

Castiel broke Dean's hold on him with more force than necessary and took a long step out of reach, glaring at the human. "Dealing with Anna," he snapped. "What is your problem?"

Dean's jaw clenched. "They took Mom," he gritted out. "The angels...they took her."

Castiel's scowl vanished. "You're sure?" he demanded.

"Who else would it be?" Sam asked wearily from behind Cas. "One minute she was here, the next...just gone."

"How did they find her?" Dean said, taking a step forward to close the distance between him and Cas. "I thought you protected her."

"It is common knowledge that you seek refuge here," Castiel reminded him sharply. "It would be the most logical place to look." He passed his hand over his eyes. "If Zachariah has her, we have to move fast, and carefully."

Amitiel appeared next to Castiel, blinking upon seeing Dean standing so close. She looked around at the grim expressions. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Zachariah has Mary," Castiel explained curtly.

Her eyes went hollow. "Oh," she said quietly. She took a slow, deep breath. "Well, then. We'll have to get her back."

"Zachariah will be expecting us to attempt to rescue her," Castiel said. "In fact, that is probably what he intended. The only way we will succeed is if we surprise him."

"How do we do that?" Dean asked, folding his arms.

"Zachariah won't hurt the two of you," Amitiel said, glancing from Dean to Sam. "We have that advantage. But we can't be sure the same holds for Mary. There's no telling what he'll do to her in order to convince you to accept the archangels." She passed her hand over her eyes. "I'll contact Kadmiel to see if she has any information we can use." She spread her wings and departed, stirring the paper on Bobby's desk.

Castiel remained where he was, lowering his head and letting his shoulders droop. The weight and weariness of the last several months caught up to him, and for the first time he wished he could sleep, if only to escape for a few hours. His head jerked up when he felt a slap on his arm and he opened his eyes to see Dean scowling at him expectantly.

"Dude, come on," Dean said. "Focus, here. We need a plan of attack."

Something in Castiel abruptly snapped. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I don't recall where I gave you the idea that my _focus_ was to solve all of your problems and meet all of your needs. Contrary to what you may believe, but my existence does not revolve around you."

Dean rocked back on his heels, his expression growing even darker. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded angrily.

Castiel took a long step forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the human. "Do you even think about what I've done for you, Dean? What I've given up? How many of my brothers I've killed with my own hands in order to save yours? And do you know what I did today for you and your brother?" His voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "I had to hold Anna down and help cut out her Grace. Inflict unimaginable pain on the sibling I once respected the most. For _you_." His voice dropped again, growing icy. "And now my sister and I are most likely going to die to rescue your mother from Zachariah's forces. Does that even bother you?"

Dean stared at him in horror and Castiel felt a twinge of remorse, but he refused to take back his words. He allowed his voice to soften, however, when he finished, "Just keep that in mind." Then, unwilling to deal with the shock and confusion he was receiving from his connection with Dean, he opened his wings and fled.

XxxXxxX

Mary turned around in a slow circle, studying her new surroundings. The room was lavishly decorated in ivory and gold, with sumptuous furniture and a multitude of angel motifs. There was no door or windows, and an enormous gold and crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Mary ran her hand over the nearest wall, but it felt solid.

"Ah. The legendary Mary Winchester. We meet at last."

Mary spun around to face a balding man in a dark suit and a smile that was more suited for a crocodile than a human. He stepped toward the table in the center of the room and gestured toward the wine bottle and glasses waiting on a silver tray.

"Can I pour you a glass? The vintage is excellent, I assure you."

"I'm good, thanks," Mary said warily. "Who are you?"

He looked offended. "Really, do you have to ask that?"

"Zachariah," she guessed. He grinned again and spread his hands.

"But of course!" He went ahead and opened the bottle of wine, pouring out a glass and swirling the crimson liquid in the glass bulb. "Let me tell you, you have been a singular influence on the events leading up to today. Well, I say you. More accurately, your death." He took a sip of the wine and put the glass down. "Of course, if you hadn't died in a horrible, gruesome manner at the hands of a demon, Dean and Sam would never have been raised as hunters and wouldn't have been in the right place at the perfect time to break those pesky seals and get this party started. So I guess you could say we owe it all to you."

Mary only narrowed her eyes at him, not rising to the bait. "Why did you bring me back?" she asked. "What use could I possibly be to you?"

"Oh, Mary, Mary, Mary," Zachariah tutted, stepping forward. "If there's one thing we've learned about Dean and Sam, it's that they are unhealthily attached to their family. Their continual willingness to sacrifice anything and everything—including their lives—for each other borders on the pathetic. And what has been the driving cause of their life for so many long years? Why, revenge for their mother's murder. So know, why don't we see what exactly they're willing to do to save Mommy."

"I'll die before I let you use me to manipulate them," Mary said flatly.

He chuckled. "See what I mean? There's the famous Winchester mentality. That psychotic co-dependence that makes finding your weak spots just far too easy." He clapped his hands together. "Well, I trust you'll make yourself comfortable until Dean and Sam show up for their heroic rescue." With that he vanished and Mary grimaced. That was a habit of the angels' that was really starting to annoy her.

She looked around the room again and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She really didn't have much of a choice except wait.

XxxXxxX

Dean almost choked on his beer when Castiel appeared in the kitchen at his elbow. Amitiel was right beside him. "We found the location your mother is being held," Cas said in an unemotional voice. "We have to move quickly."

"Uh, okay," Dean said, eying Cas. But Cas only stared flatly back, as if he was pretending his uncharacteristic outburst had never happened. "I'll get Sam."

"Hurry," Ami said.

Dean ducked out of the kitchen and poked his head into the library. "Sam, angels are back," he said. "We got to go."

Bobby and Sam looked up, Sam scrambling to his feet. "Are they—is Cas," he began.

"I don't know," Dean cut him off brusquely. "Come on. We need to move."

"Good luck," Bobby called after them. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder and Ami closed her small hand around Sam's wrist. They were now standing in a gravel parking lot outside of a warehouse.

"Where are we?" Sam asked.

"Los Angeles, California," Castiel replied, staring at the warehouse in front of them. "The green room is inside there."

Dean looked around. "Seriously?"

Castiel gave him a look. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know, the rings of Saturn, a blade of grass. Not Van Nuys."

Cas huffed softly and strode toward the warehouse, Amitiel falling into step beside him. Sam and Dean exchanged a look and hurried after the angels. When they reached a door into the warehouse, Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulder and pulled him to a halt. "Hold on there, bud. What's the plan?"

"Amitiel and I will eliminate the guards. You will get your mother out," he replied flatly. He reached under his jacket and pulled out and angel sword. "You may need this."

"What about you?" Dean asked, taking the weapon gingerly.

"I have mine," Castiel assured him. He turned again but Dean once more pulled him back.

"Dude, are you serious?" Dean asked in disbelief. "That's your plan?"

Castiel gave him a look. "Yes," was all he said.

Dean lowered his voice. "Did you mean what you said earlier? About you and Ami dying?"

"It is likely." There was no emotion on Cas' face.

"I'm not gonna just let you walk in there and—" Dean began, but Castiel cut him off.

"Do you want to rescue your mother or not?"

Dean stared at Cas for a long moment, jaw clenched. Finally he sighed, defeated. "Give 'em hell," he said softly, and released his hold on the angel's trench coat. Cas nodded and stepped toward the door, looking over his shoulder at the girl.

She was standing in front of Sam, holding one of his hands tightly while she spoke quickly in a low voice. Then she lifted her other hand to his cheek, rose onto her toes, and placed a soft kiss on his lips before turning and joining Cas. As she walked away from Sam, Dean watched Mallory morph into Amitiel. The two angels shared a brief look before Cas opened the door and they slipped inside the warehouse.

"I can't believe we just let them do that," Dean said, staring at the door. Sam didn't say anything.

XxxXxxX

The Green Room sat in the middle of the warehouse floor, sealed in its own bubble of serenity and oblivious to its surroundings. Castiel and Amitiel paced over the concrete floor, turning slowly to take in the battleground. It was empty, silent.

Both the angels drew their swords, folding their wings tightly in preparation for combat. Castiel's eyes narrowed as he raked his gaze once more over the quiescent warehouse. "Come on!" he yelled, his voice echoing. "We're here!"

Five angels surrounded them, each with a naked blade. Amitiel spun quickly, putting her back to her brother's and dropping into a crouch. For a moment they all remained where they were, waiting. Then the guards closed on the intruders.

Silver blades flashed and the ring of metal tolled out like bells. Amitiel and Castiel kept their shoulders pressed together as they fought. Amitiel parried a blade away from her face but the point still grazed her cheek. Blood dripped from her jaw, speckling her shirt. Castiel followed a thrust with a left hook, sending his opponent stumbling backwards. He didn't dare separate from Amitiel to pursue.

Castiel felt Amitiel's hand clamp down on his left wrist and he tensed in preparation. Her other hand grabbed his shoulder and then she was swinging around him, using his shoulder as a pivot. Her shoes smashed into one of the angel's face, sending him to the ground. Amitiel released Castiel and followed the angel down, her sword once more in her hand. She buried into the angel's chest. As the Grace detonated around them, Castiel grabbed his nearest opponent and dragged his blade across his throat. Before the light even faded, the battle was closed again, two of the remaining guards descending on Amitiel and the third falling upon Castiel.

The warehouse began to tremble, hairline cracks spiderwebbing across the concrete floor. The struggle sputtered out into a confused halt as the five combatants looked around. A high-pitched tone filled the building, harsh, commanding. The trembling grew more violent. The guards backed off, banishing their swords and staring apprehensively upwards. Amitiel stepped to Castiel's side and slid her hand into his, squeezing hard.

Then, with a blast of light that blew out the windows, the archangel descended.

XxxXxxX

Dean lowered his arms from his head, shards of glass falling from his jacket and hair. "Cas!" he yelled, sprinting towards the warehouse door. "Ami!" He slammed the door open and lunged inside, Sam at his heels. The interior of the warehouse was silent and—except for the large box and two unfamiliar angel corpses—empty.

"What was that?" Dean asked, looking around.

"I have no idea," Sam replied. "Ami? Cas?"

There was no reply. They walked deeper into the warehouse, but there was no sign of their angels. "D'you think," Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

"I'm not gonna think anything until I see the bodies. They've come back before."

"Right," Sam agreed with a nod. They advanced toward the exterior of the Green Room, circling it until they found a door. Dean glanced at Sam, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. Sam nodded and Dean flung open the door, charging in.

Mary jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over backwards. "No!" she cried. "No, get out of here!"

"Not without you," Dean said, striding over and grabbing her arm. "You okay?"

"They're waiting for you," she hissed back at him. "You shouldn't have come."

"Well, we did, so let's clear out," Dean replied.

"Too late," Sam said from behind him. Dean whirled around, dropping his mother's arm. Zachariah stood between them and the door, shaking his finger at them.

"Now, now, boys. Don't be so eager to run off. You just got here." He grinned at them. "We're just getting started!"

Dean stepped in front of his mother just as Sam edged in front of Dean, adding another layer of protection between Mary and Zachariah. "We're not saying yes," Sam said. "And there's nothing you can do to change that."

"Oh, we'll see," Zachariah said, never losing his grin. "But we're really not all that interested in you, Sam." He waved his hand, sending Sam flying across the room to smash into the opposite wall.

"Bastard!" Mary spat, darting over to Sam's side. Dean squared off against Zachariah.

"This is between you and me," he growled. "You leave them alone."

"You're not in any position to give me orders, Dean," Zachariah replied as if he was remonstrating a wayward child. "In fact, you're not in a very good position at all." He stepped forward until he was two inches too far inside Dean's personal space. Dean had to resist the urge to step back. "We're in my playground now," the angel went on. "And we're playing by my rules."

"Whatever he does, Dean," Mary said in a low, intense voice. "You don't do anything. Do you hear me? You do nothing!"

Dean tried not to react, but Zachariah must have caught something in his eyes because he smirked. "Oh, yes. Mama Winchester. What fun we are going to have with her. What's it gonna take to get you to say yes, Dean? Maybe some screaming?" He gestured beyond Dean.

Behind Dean, Mary groaned between clenched teeth, doubling over, one hand clutching her stomach. Sam shook himself out of his daze and reached for her. "Mom? Mom, what's wrong?" Mary gurgled and groaned again, blood bubbling from her lips. Sam slipped his arms around her shoulders, supporting her as she collapsed to her knees. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled at Zachariah. "Let her go!"

Zachariah cocked his head to the side. "How does that saying go? I brought her into this world..." He gestured again. Mary moaned, her jaws clenched together in an effort not to scream. "I can take her out of it."

Dean lunged for Zachariah, one arm cocked back. Zachariah caught his fist easily in one hand, stopping Dean cold. "Come on, Dean," he wheedled. "She doesn't have to go through this. You can stop it with one word. All you have to do is say yes."

"Don't!" Mary cried. "Dean...don't say it!"

Dean's arm trembled as he tested his strength against Zachariah's. He glanced over at his mother and his brother. Mary shook her head even as another mouthful of blood trickled down her chin. "Don't," she whispered.

"Well, Dean?" Zachariah taunted. "Say yes and Mommy will be just fine. And we'll throw Sam in to sweeten the deal. How 'bout it?"

"Go to hell," Dean gritted out.

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. Be that way. Sam, it was singularly unpleasant knowing you." He pointed at the younger Winchester. Sam abruptly went limp, releasing Mary, who toppled over onto her hands and knees, spitting blood onto the floor. She tried to crawl over to Sam but only collapsed. Sam lay on his back, twitching spasmodically, his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Sam!" Dean tried to lunge toward his brother, but Zachariah didn't release his hold on Dean's hand. Mary pushed herself upright, dragged herself over to her younger son, and curled up around Sam's head to protect him during the seizure.

Dean turned back to Zachariah. "Let them go," he said desperately. "Just let them go."

"What's the magic word?" Zachariah taunted.

"I'll do it," Dean said in a rush. "Just stop it. Stop hurting them."

Zachariah beamed. "Well, if I had known it was gonna be that easy, I would have done this months ago!" He released Dean and stepped back. "Let's get this party started." He spread his hands out to his sides and tilted his head back, beginning to chant in Enochian.

Dean looked over at his family. Mary was cradling Sam's head, staring at him with horrified eyes. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it came out sickly. He winked instead and turned back to Zachariah.

"Hey, Zach," he said. Zachariah stopped chanting and looked at him quizzically. "I've been wanting to say this for a while now," Dean went on. He stepped forward. "You are a major-league douchewad." He dropped the angel-sword from his sleeve into his hand and slammed it upwards through the bottom of Zachariah's jaw, driving it home with all of his strength. The point broke through the top of the angel's bald skull, blood leaking from the wound.

Zachariah's expression remained frozen in shock even as light began gathering in his wide-open eyes and mouth. Dean didn't look away, didn't shield his eyes as the light grew nearly to blinding. Zachariah collapsed backwards against the wall and the explosion whited out Dean's vision for a moment, before it cleared to reveal Zachariah's corpse and a pair of charred wings.

Dean didn't even look at the body as he lunged across the room towards Mary and Sam. "Hey, you guys okay?" he demanded, dropping to his knees beside them. Mary coughed, turned, and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. "I'm fine."

Sam blinked his eyes open. "Urgh," he said eloquently.

"Sam, how do you feel?" Dean asked, grabbing the front of Sam's jacket to haul him upright.

"Like I got hit by a house," Sam mumbled, reaching up to shield his eyes.

"Let's get out of here." Dean and Mary hauled Sam to his feet and the three of them stumbled out of the Green Room, past the bodies of the guards, and finally back out into the sunshine. Once they got into the parking lot, however, Dean ground to a halt. "Dammit," he muttered.

"What?" Mary demanded.

"We came by angel express," he told her. "No car."

"Angel express?" Mary repeated. "Castiel and Amitiel? Where are they?"

"No clue," Dean replied. "But they'll turn up. They always do." He eased Sam down onto the gravel. "Wait here." He checked to make sure Sam was still conscious before jogging away.

"Mom?" Sam asked, doing his best to sit upright and listing alarmingly. "Are you okay?"

Mary laughed soundlessly. "I'm fine, sweetheart," she assured him. "I'm okay."

He straightened, only to start leaning the other way. Mary reached out to pull him against her side and he dropped his head onto her shoulder. She stroked his hair soothingly. "We should look for Cas and Ami," Sam mumbled. "Make sure they're okay."

"We will," Mary promised. "As soon as you're feeling better."

"'Kay," Sam sighed and closed his eyes. Mary rested her cheek against his head. A tear traced down her cheek.

She had done this to her boys. All of this. Because she made a deal with a demon to get her boyfriend back.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, grateful that Sam was unconscious again.

Dean drove up in an unfamiliar car and Mary hurried wiped the moisture away. She had to be strong now. Strong for her boys. They needed her now more than ever.


	13. Chapter 13

Mary sat by the window of the cheap motel room and watched her sons sleep. The last time she'd done so, Dean wasn't quite waist-high and Sam was still in diapers. Now both of them towered over her and their resumés as hunters were longer than hers.

Twenty-seven years. If she had not have died on that night twenty-seven years ago, her sons would not be fighting for their lives in the middle of the Apocalypse. If she had not have made that deal. If, if, if. She passed a hand over her face, feeling unutterably weary. But she couldn't sleep. No, every time she'd tried, she'd only had nightmares of her death, burning alive and helpless as the demon poisoned her baby boy.

She pushed to her feet, reaching for her jacket and Dean's wallet lying on the table. She found a handful of crumpled bills and took his credit card instead. There was a corner store just down the street. It was their second day holed up in the motel, waiting until Sam could walk in a straight line, and they were low on supplies. That was one good thing Mary could remember about hunting with her parents. At least the food had been decent.

It was a few hours before dawn, and it was cool and clear, a perfect California night. Sam had told her how he'd gone to school in Palo Alto. She'd told him she was proud of him for that. She'd never had that opportunity. She remembered thinking that the worst thing that could happen was that her children would be raised to be hunters.

She still thought that. But there was nothing she could do about it. Not now. Now all she could hope for was damage control. Somehow she was going to find a way to stop this Apocalypse. Somehow she was going to find a way for her boys to make it through this. Even if it cost her life.

Again.

She could handle that.

She picked up some coffee and whatever other supplies the 24-hour quickie-mart had to offer, puzzling over the unfamiliar packages and amusing herself by reading the ingredients. Most of them sounded more like a chemistry set than food items. She gathered the healthiest things she could find and headed back to the motel. Dawn was just starting to break and she paused to admire the streaks of pink and peach and pale gray-blue expanding over the night-dark sky.

And that's when she realized how much she missed John.

She saw so much of him in their boys. His intensity and loyalty in Dean. His stubbornness and passion in Sam. It may not have been what she'd wanted, but he'd trained them well. Oh, she saw the scars and the hurt in their eyes when they told her about their childhood. She knew John had become obsessed and single-minded in his pursuit of the yellow-eyed demon to the exclusion of all else, even his own children. But he had not left them unprepared for life fighting the supernatural.

She wished she could have seen John as a hunter. She was so glad she never had. She sighed and shook her head, continuing her way towards the motel. She wouldn't wake the boys up when she arrived. She'd let them sleep for as long as they needed. She'd got the feeling they hadn't been getting much lately.

She was almost to the room when she heard the gun shots. Part of her brain instantly identified them as shotguns, large gauge, and close by. It was only a second later that she realized that they'd come from her room. She dropped the bags and broke into a sprint. The door to their room swung open and two men hurried out, both wearing stocking masks pulled up to reveal their faces. Both carried shotguns. Neither were Mary's sons.

Mary caught the first one across the jaw and followed it with a knee to the crotch. As he doubled over, she kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling onto the asphalt. The second man stared at her in shock for a moment, completely caught off guard. Mary struck out at him but he blocked her with his shotgun at the last minute.

He pushed forward as if to overpower her with sheer superior weight, but Mary moved with him, grabbing his shotgun and using it as a lever to flip him over and to the ground. She tossed the shotgun aside and pulled the pistol out of the back of her waistband. When the man pushed himself up to his knees, it was to find the barrel of the .45 pointing directly at his face. He held up his hands.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, his voice shaky. "Take it easy. We weren't gonna hurt you. We weren't gonna hurt nobody."

There was a faint rustle behind Mary and she spun around, finger tightening on the trigger. The other man jerked backwards, dropping the shotgun he'd raised and pointed at Mary. He fell flat on his back, eyes staring blankly up at the sky as blood leaked from the hole in his forehead. Mary spun back to face the first man.

He'd gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead. "Please," he begged. "Don't kill me. I didn't do nothing, I swear."

Mary's finger tightened again and the man whimpered, closing his eyes and turning his face away. She gritted her teeth and growled deep in her throat. "Get up," she snarled. The man looked at her apprehensively. "Get up," she barked again. He scrambled to his feet, hands still raised.

"Turn around and walk," Mary ordered in a deadly voice. "Don't look back."

He swallowed and obeyed, shoulders bunched and tense as if any moment expecting a bullet to slam into them. Mary watched until he was out of sight. Only then did she lower the gun. She took a deep breath, fighting to regain control. Shoving the gun back into her waistband, she bent down and grabbed the corpse of the man she'd shot and began dragging it away. She concealed it behind the dumpster, along with the shotgun, and made her way back to the motel room.

Mary hesitated outside the open door before stepping through. A sob rose in her throat at the sight in front of her. Dean and Sam lay on the beds, blood spattered on the white sheets around them. Mary closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, her legs giving out. She sunk to the ground, hands pressed to her mouth.

She didn't remember how long she huddled there, numb with shock and horror, but it felt like a lifetime.

XxxXxxX

The walls were white, smooth, and warm, without any seams or cracks. There were no windows or doors, just a box five steps wide. Mallory ran her hand along the wall, feeling it slide without friction under her fingers. She sighed and turned toward her companion, pointing at her forehead inquiringly.

Jimmy shook his head. "Nope. Just me. You?"

"Same here," she replied, putting her back to the wall and sliding to the ground. "Any idea where we are?"

"Last thing I remember is being inside a ring of holy fire," Jimmy told her.

"That was weeks ago," Mallory said, rubbing her nose. "Carthage. We went to go kill Lucifer."

"How'd that work out?" he asked dryly.

"I almost died," she said, matching his tone. "But I blew up a couple of hellhounds, so it balances out. The last thing _I_ remember is making pancakes at Bobby's."

"So, who do you think? Angels or demons?"

She shrugged. "I think the more important question is, where's Ami and Cas? They need us in order to be on earth, and they can't go back to heaven. So where are they?"

He considered that for a long moment, rubbing at the stubble clinging to his cheeks. "Good question. I have no clue," he admitted. He reached suddenly into his coat pocket and frowned. "My cell phone's gone."

Mallory checked. "So's mine," she said. Jimmy kept checking his various pockets and looked surprised when he pulled out a deck of cards from one.

"I don't remember this being here," he said, staring at it. It had tiny winged cherubs on the back of each card. Mallory took it from him and began shuffling them. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"You know how to play Speed, right?" she asked, dealing the cards.

"Yeah," Jimmy said slowly.

"Well, wherever we are, it doesn't appear that we're getting out any time soon, so we might as well amuse ourselves," Mallory told him. "Unless you'd rather play I Spy."

Jimmy looked around and chuckled. "All right. Point." He shrugged out of his coat and bundled it to the side. "Best out of fifty?"

XxxXxxX

It was an awesome dream. The best Dean had had for a while. A moment when he'd been perfectly happy, watching Sam's face light up at the sight of their fireworks exploding in the night sky. Of course it had been too good to last, interspersed with nightmare images of blood and (adult) Sam dead, more blood, and sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. Dean shook his head to clear it and looked mournfully around at the now-empty clearing. Figures. He stomped back to the Impala and leaned against the car, slightly apprehensive as to what memories his brain was going to dredge up next. He blew out a breath, saw it mist in the night air, and looked up.

Dean's mouth fell open. The sky overhead was filled with stars, more than he could ever remember seeing. They wheeled around an enormous, full moon, several times the size it should be. Banners of green and blue and pink danced through the sky, flickering and changing in a never-ending aurora. As Dean pushed away from the Impala, craning his neck to take in the full scope of the view, something crinkled in his right hand.

It was a scrap of notepaper, inked with a barely-legible scrawl. Dean puzzled over it for a moment before making out the words, "Follow the road." The Impala was parked in the middle of a two-lane blacktop that disappeared into the distance. Dean looked from the road back to the note.

"Huh," he said, and climbed into his car. "Weird dream."

It got weirder. He stopped at the house, curious as to what was in it, only to find Sam having Thanksgiving dinner with a family he didn't recognize.

"Uh, Dean," Sam said, frowning at his brother. "What are you doing in my dream?"

"Dude, you're in _my_ dream," Dean replied. Sam got to his feet and hauled Dean into the living room. The family didn't even notice.

"This is one of my memories," Sam insisted.

"Yeah, I was in one of mine," Dean agreed. "Remember that Fourth of July we burnt down that field?"

A glimmer of a smile crossed Sam's face. "Yeah, I do."

Dean looked down. "What's that?"

Sam regarded the scrap of paper in his hand with some surprise. "I don't know." He unfolded it, his eyebrows shooting up. "Huh." He handed it to Dean. It contained the same scratchy handwriting of Dean's note and also consisted of three words: "Go with Dean."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "Where are we supposed to go?"

"The road," Dean told him. "I got a note saying to follow the road."

"Road to where?" Sam asked.

Before Dean could admit he didn't know, the house started shaking and light blazed in through the windows. Both brothers dove for hiding spots before they even considered why they thought the light was a threat, but they felt better when it passed.

"Let's get out of here," Dean said, hurrying to the front door and throwing it open, only to be confronted by a thick forest.

"What road?" Sam asked, peering over Dean's shoulder.

"This is the trippiest dream I've ever had sober," Dean said with a sigh.

It was pretty easy after that to tell whose memories they were re-living, but nothing gave them a clue as to why they seemed to be experiencing their greatest hits, or how they seemed to be sharing a dream. But as time went on and Dean began to realize that the memories Sam was enjoying were all the one that were painful for Dean, tension began to mount. They ended up yelling at each other in the midst of Sam's memory of leaving for college when the light came back like a spotlight from a silent helicopter. Without really knowing why, they both bolted for the woods.

They found a hiding spot behind a fallen log, chests heaving and hearts pounding, when the light abruptly switched out. They peered out at the night-dark forest and caught sight of a figure moving among the trees.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"I know him," Dean replied. "That's Raphael!"

"The archangel?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, the one who exploded Cas. Aw, dammit," Dean muttered. "The angels. I'll bet you anything they're the ones messing around with our brains."

They watched as the man in the dark suit (angels sure seemed to like dark suits) stopped, looked around, and reached up to snap his fingers. The night was abruptly transformed into midday, the sun shining brightly overhead.

"I know you're out there," Raphael called. "There is no point in hiding. I will find you."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and nodded. They bolted from their hiding spot at the same time, plunging deeper into the woods. They'd only gone a few hundred yards before another figure stepped out from behind a tree, this one wearing a shiny cape and a Mexican wrestling mask. The Winchesters ground to a halt out of sheer confusion.

"Quick, this way," the masked figure hissed. With few other options, Dean and Sam followed as the stranger led them to a ramshackle structure and chalked a sigil onto the door before pushing through. They followed him closely, stepping into...

The Roadhouse. Dean drew up to a sharp halt, staring around at the familiar surroundings. "Who are you?" he demanded. The stranger responded by whipping off his cape and pulling the mask off.

"Hello, boys," Ash greeted, spreading his arms in greeting. "Welcome to my slice of heaven."

"This is definitely the trippiest dream I've ever had sober," Dean deadpanned.

"Definitely," Sam agreed.

"Hate to break it to you, but this isn't a dream," Ash replied, tossing the cape and mask onto a table and circling around the bar. "Let me get you a drink. You're gonna need it."

Dean and Sam cautiously approached him, settling down on the bar stools and accepting the ice-cold cans Ash set in front of them. "If this isn't a dream, then what is it?" Sam asked, popping the top on his beer.

Ash gave him a uncharacteristically grave look. "You've got to have a suspicion," he said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Getting our Mom back from Zachariah, crashing at a motel...oh, shit," Sam trailed off, his eyes getting wide. "I got shot! Those two hunters. They shot me." He stared at Ash, who was waiting expectantly. "Am I..are we dead?"

"Yup," Ash said. "And this is heaven."

Dean took a long swallow from his beer and shoved the empty can across the bar. "I'm gonna need another one." Ash obligingly handed him a second. After Dean had finished that one, too, he looked at the computer hacker. "Heaven?" he asked. Ash nodded silently. "Well, then it sucks."

"What you said earlier," Sam said, having time to process the information. "What did you mean, 'your' slice of heaven?"

Ash launched into rambling explanation that Dean was pretty sure wouldn't make sense unless you were at least partially drunk and managed to come up with the idea that it was a little less fluffy clouds and harps and a little more Matrix. He was still of the opinion that it sucked. As Ash finished bragging about jumping from one heaven to the next, Sam leaned forward.

"Have you found our dad?" he asked.

"No, but I did see your mother," Ash said, leaning his elbows against the bar. "For like, two seconds until her heaven just vanished. Poof. Gone."

"That's because Zachariah brought her back to earth," Dean explained somewhat bitterly. "Tried to use her to talk Sam and me into letting Michael and Lucifer jump our bones."

Ash hummed to himself. "Yeah, figured something like that must have happened." He drummed his fingers on the bar. "So...Ellen and Jo? How're they doing?"

"Good," Sam assured him. "They're doing good."

Ash nodded, looking pleased and relieved. "I keep an eye out, you know. But hey, enough with being a downer. There's someone here who wants to see you."

That got Dean's attention. He straightened as Ash headed for the back door. "Who?" he demanded, but Ash merely vanished through the doorway without replying. It swung back open almost immediately, and Kadmiel stepped through.

She looked exactly the same as she had when Dean had first met her, except for one rather significant difference. Behind her, arching a foot over her head and sweeping down to trail on the ground, was a pair of vast, chestnut wings that constantly shifted and trembled with restless movement. "Dean. Sam," she greeted, her voice neutral.

"Kadmiel," Dean replied, matching her tone.

She stepped further into Roadhouse, Ash emerging behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, nodding gratefully. He saluted her with two fingers and returned to his place behind the bar.

"Why did you want to see us?" Dean demanded suspiciously. Kadmiel turned to look at him again.

"I need your help," she replied tersely.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. "Help with what?" Sam asked.

Kadmiel fluttered her wings, the huge limbs opening slightly and feathers fanning out like a cloak behind her. When she spoke, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"To rescue Castiel and Amitiel."


	14. Chapter 14

"Cas and Ami are in heaven?" Dean said, a knot of hard emotion growing under his breastbone. Kadmiel jerked her head downwards.

"They are being held until they repent and ask forgiveness, after which they will be granted redemption," she replied, her voice bitter.

"And that means?" Sam pressed.

"They're being tortured until they admit they were wrong and then they will be executed," Kadmiel replied. "Publicly."

Dean slammed his fist down on the bar and shoved to his feet, swinging around to face away from the angel. He wanted to explode in anger, to beat something until his fists were bloody. He wanted to tear heaven apart until he found his angels. The knot in his chest erupted into flame, as if his skin was actually burning. Dean froze, then reached up to put his hand over his chest. He could feel the heat through his shirt. "The hell?" he muttered, and pulled the collar of his t-shirt down.

Just below his collar bone, inked in gold on his skin, was an Enochian symbol. It was glowing faintly, pulsing in time to his heartbeat. "Holy crap," he said, staring at the unfamiliar glyph.

"That is the Mark Castiel placed on your soul," Kadmiel explained from behind him. "It binds the two of you together. It's how we will find them." Dean spun around to see her nod towards Sam. "You have one, too."

Sam pulled his own shirt down, revealing another glowing gold symbol resting over his breastbone. Ash leaned forward to inspect it. "Nifty," he observed. "If there's a tangible connection, then I can trace it, pinpoint its source." He reached under the counter top and pulled out a jury-rigged laptop. "All right, here, checking for wireless soul connection...and...got it!" he announced. "Yup, you're both definitely receiving from some kind of broadcast. Shouldn't take me too long to track it back. Sam, give me a hand?"

Dean turned to Kadmiel. "So, what's the plan? We just walk in, grab Cas and Ami, and walk out?"

She shook her head. "No, _you_ walk in, grab Castiel and Amitiel, and walk out. I cannot go with you."

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded.

"Because they will kill me if they find me helping you," she explained sharply. "You, they cannot harm. You have been granted salvation. The worst they can do is restrict you to your own heaven. Or send you back to earth. If Ash can find where they are being held, I will get you as close as I can. After that it is up to you."

"What are we supposed to do after we get them out?" Dean asked. "We'll still be in heaven."

"Once you've freed Castiel and Amitiel, you will go to the center of heaven, to the Garden," she told him. "Castiel and Amitiel will know the way. I've made arrangements for you there." She shook her head. "This is all I can do without being discovered. I'm already taking an enormous risk as it is."

Dean frowned. He hated the idea of owing an angel that wasn't one of his, especially one that still served heaven (however tenuously). "Thanks," he said grudgingly. Kadmiel nodded once in acknowledgment.

"All right. Listen to me closely," she said, speaking quickly. "You cannot attack any angel while you are here. You can't hurt them. You can only do your best to avoid detection. Castiel and Amitiel are most likely being held in our sector of heaven, where human souls do not generally go. It is going to be extremely disorienting, but if you stay away from the outer edges, you should be relatively fine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

She shook her head. "You'll see when you get there. I shouldn't have to tell you not to trust any angel unless Castiel and Amitiel says they can be. And whatever you do, _don't_ attract attention to yourselves. Everything hinges on your and your brother's ability to go unnoticed, do you understand?"

"Yeah, got it," Dean snapped grumpily. She fluttered her wings again, clearly not happy.

"If anything goes wrong, it will cost Castiel and Amitiel their lives," she told him harshly.

"I know," Dean replied grimly.

"Got it!" Ash crowed, looking up from his computer. "Bad news, though. It's right smack dab in the middle of the angel sector. It's gonna be tough."

"We can handle it," Dean said. "Let's get moving."

Kadmiel studied the computer screen for a moment, and then nodded. "I know where this is. I can take you to within a couple of miles, relatively." She reached out and placed a hand on each of the brother's shoulders. "Thank you, Ash."

He saluted her again. "Good luck," he called, and then Kadmiel spread her wings.

Flying in heaven was much different than on earth. On earth they moved from one location to the next with no noticeable trip in between. In heaven, there was a rushing sensation in the stomach, like they were falling upwards. Everything blurred around them for half a second, and then they were standing on a staircase.

Dean waited until his stomach settled before opening his eyes. The stairs, walls, and arched ceiling were all gold and emitting a soft, almost comforting light. When he reached out to touch the nearest wall, the material was warm and perfectly smooth.

Kadmiel pointed up the stairs. "They are being held in that direction. The Marks should grow stronger the closer you get to them. Hurry. Your presence will not long go unnoticed." Then she spread her wings again, filling up all the available space, and vanished.

Sam looked around again. "Not exactly what I expected," he observed. Dean grunted and started up the stairs. "Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed. Dean whirled around. The stairwell behind him was empty.

"Sam!" he called, suddenly panicked.

"I'm right here," he heard Sam's voice reply. Dean looked around. "No, _here._ Look up."

Dean looked up. "Holy shit," he agreed. Sam was standing on the ceiling, which was also stacked into steps, and was staring down at Dean. He took a cautious step forward, and then another, and then something _twisted_ and he was standing next to Dean.

"Whoa," he said, reaching out to the wall to catch himself. Dean looked from his brother to the stairs ahead of them apprehensively.

"Dude, this is weird," he said.

They managed to make the top of the staircase without breaking any more laws of physics and emerged into a hallway. Arches opened at regular intervals, and when Sam peered into the first one, it was to see another staircase, except that it was upside down and curving upwards. He backed away quickly. The next one was a large room, oriented so the floor was actually the right-hand wall. The other rooms were equally bizarre.

"Sam!" Dean called from ahead. "Come check this out!"

Sam hurried down the hallway to the last arch on the right, which opened out onto a balcony. Dean was standing way back from the edge, as it didn't have a railing. Sam looked out at the view in front of them and his mouth hung open.

Far ahead of them, they could make out more gold buildings and structures, but between them there was only empty space. Sam realized that it was actually a large square, four sides lined buildings with only emptiness in the middle. Above and below were the same, darkness filled with wheeling stars, galaxies, and nebulae, interspersed with continually-shifting auroras.

But that wasn't even the worst part. Sam tried to look at the buildings themselves but they made him dizzy. "It's like some kind of demented Escher painting," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"The angels live like this?" Dean asked, looking like he wanted to be sick.

"Well, it kinda makes sense," Sam said. When Dean gave him an alarmed look, he pointed out, "Gravity and physics obviously don't apply here. Why _wouldn't_ they have architecture like this?"

Dean shook his head and went back inside. Across the hall was another archway, which led to a downwards staircase. As Dean edged cautiously towards it, he felt something tug at his chest along with a sudden warmth. He stepped closer, putting his hand on the Mark. The flash of warmth repeated itself.

"It's like hide-and-seek meets warm-or-cold," he muttered. "Come on, Sam!" He moved down the steps, alert for anything funny, but it was only when he turned to look for Sam that he noticed that while he thought the stairs led down, he was now actually higher than the archway. Sam looked up at him with wide eyes for a moment before hurrying to join him.

"This is gonna be fun," Dean sighed.

Navigating the mind-bending architecture proved more difficult than Dean had thought. Other than randomly finding themselves walking on what they had initially thought was the ceiling, the endless staircases had a nasty habit of dumping them back where they started while the center of gravity changed half a dozen times crossing a single room. More than once they stopped to argue in furious whispers until the Marks kicked in, guiding them further into the bizarre cityscape.

Sam hissed a warning right before he grabbed Dean and dragged him through an archway. Outside in the passageway, two angels strode by, their wings filling up the entire corridor. They were in the middle of some heated debate in Enochian, and for the first time Dean listened to an angel's true voice without bleeding from his ears.

When the angels' voices faded into the distance, the brothers crept back into the hall and hurried on their way. After braving a staircase that cork-screwed up the inside of a circular tower (the loop-de-loops threatened to make Dean nauseous), they emerged into yet another hallway. Except they instantly knew this one was different.

For one thing, it was twice as wide as any they'd come across so far. At even intervals on both sides where square openings centered in the wall. Each one led to an identical rectangular chamber, void of any furnishing. The first seven they checked were empty, but their Marks had grown so strong the golden glow was shining through their shirts.

Sam went to check the eighth chamber and recoiled from the opening with a curse. In the brief glimpse he'd had of the chamber's interior, he caught sight of an angel standing on the far wall as if at the bottom of a deep pit, and at his feet lay a second angel, limp wings spread out on the "floor."

Sam caught Dean's gaze and jerked his head at the occupied chamber. They flanked the entrance, backs pressed against the wall, and peered cautiously in. The standing angel was unfamiliar, male, Asian, with dark brown wings folded neatly at his back. He was blocking their view of the prone angel. All they could see was a single outstretched hand and the silver-white pinions piled like drifts of pristine snow.

Dean hissed suddenly, pressing a hand over his Mark and he massaged the inflamed skin gingerly. The dark-winged angel stirred, straightened, and stepped away from his prostrate companion. Dean couldn't help the growl that crawled out of his throat.

It was Castiel, lying still and pale at the feet of his jailor, tormentor, confessor...whatever he was. All Dean knew was that he was hurting _his_ angel and it was all Dean could do not to leap down there and strangle him. The strange angel turned and touched the wall (floor, from Dean's point of view). A set of stairs appeared and he "ascended" from the cell, orienting himself when he emerged into the hallway.

Dean grunted when Sam nudged him accidentally, nearly making him lose his grip on the edge of the empty cell. He craned his neck to look out the opening above them as the angel strode by, never even glancing in their direction. As soon as his footsteps died away, Dean pulled himself to the edge and rolled out, momentarily disoriented when he passed between one direction of gravity to the next. Then he lunged to the opening of Cas' cell.

The angel was lying in the same position, not seeming to be aware the other was gone. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow, wings trembling with each inhale. Dean dropped to one knee and leaned into the cell as far as he dared.

"Cas!" he hissed. "Cas! Come on, Cas. Can you hear me?"

Sam knelt at Dean's side. "How're we gonna get him out?" he asked softly. The stairs had vanished from the cell's wall. Dean shrugged.

"I'm going down in there," he told Sam, and swung his legs over the edge into the cell. He felt the perpendicular gravity tug at his lower body, and then he let himself drop all the way down. He landed on his feet and immediately crouched down, reaching out to Castiel. His hand brushed the wings spread almost protectively over the angel's body, and Cas flinched, drawing in a sharp breath. The feathers were incredibly soft, but felt strong at the same time. Dean hesitated, and then brushed his hand over the pinions once more.

Castiel moaned softly and opened his eyes. They were blurry and unfocused, pupils blown wide. He shifted slightly, drawing one wing up to cover his face. Dean caught it and pulled it down. "Hey," he said urgently. "Cas. C'mon, it's me. Wake up."

Cas stared blankly at Dean for a long minute. "D'n?" he finally mumbled.

"Yeah, it's me," Dean said again. "We're gonna get you out of here." He dithered for a moment, trying to figure out where to grab to haul the angel to his feet, what with the wings flopping everywhere, when Cas' hand shot up and his palm slapped against the Mark on Dean's chest. While all Dean felt was a sudden flare of heat, Cas acted like he'd been struck by lightening, every muscle going tense. The angel lunged to his feet, grabbing Dean by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall of the cell.

"What are you doing here?" Cas demanded furiously, his face only inches from Dean's. "What did you do?"

"Whoa, Cas, calm down." Dean tried to push Castiel away, break his hold, but the angel was implacable. Cas shoved him against the wall again.

"How are you even here?" Castiel ranted. "Did you kill yourself? What were you thinking?"

"Cas, cool it," Dean put his hands up in surrender. "I'll explain everything. Just calm down."

Castiel's pupils slowly began to constrict, showing the blue irises for the first time. He relaxed his hold on Dean but didn't step back or drop his hands. He stared expectantly, waiting.

"A couple of hunters got the drop on us on the way home from the Green Room," Dean told him slowly. "They weren't too happy about us starting the Apocalypse. Once we got up here, Kadmiel rounded us up and sent us to find you."

Castiel blinked, his pupils finally back to normal. "Oh," he said. He took a deep breath and released Dean, his hands dropping to his sides. His wings, spread out and raised during his anger, now drooped to the floor. Dean couldn't help reaching out to touch them again. Cas twitched his wing away from Dean's hand.

"Don't," he said shortly. Dean snatched his hand away.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you."

Cas got a funny look on his face. "It doesn't hurt. It just...tickles."

Sam cleared his throat and they both looked up at the opening above them. "We really should get a move on," Sam said. "Ami's nearby, I can feel it."

"All right. C'mere, Cas, I'll give you a boost up." Dean linked his hands for Castiel to step up until Sam could reach down and grab his arms, hauling him up out of the cell. Dean had to jump so Sam could catch him, and Cas helped drag him free. The angel swayed upon standing but waved Dean off. When he tried to walk, however, he still seemed to be having trouble balancing.

"Dude, are you all right?" Dean demanded.

"I'm fine," he said defensively, but when he pushed away from the wall, he nearly fell, forcing Dean to catch him.

"What the hell did they do to you?" Dean asked furiously. Castiel shook his head.

"It is of no import. We need...we must find Amitiel."

Dean slung Cas' arm over his shoulders and they managed a few awkward steps, the angel's wings still flopping limply behind him. They shuddered, strained, and finally folded into place, correcting their balance. Dean nodded at Sam.

"Lead the way."

They found her in the last cell, curled up on the "bottom" of the pit, her wings wrapped tightly around her body. Sam jumped down without hesitating, beginning to gather her up in his arms, careful of her wings. They were tawny-gold, reflecting bronze in the ambient light. But Sam could see the numerous thin scars spread out like spiderwebs over the delicate flesh beneath the feathers.

Amitiel struggled weakly, mumbling in Enochian and pushing away from Sam. "Ami, it's okay," he murmured back. "It's me, Sam. Can you hear me? I need you to wake up."

"Connect her to the Mark," Castiel called from above him. Sam looked up questioningly. "Have her touch the Mark. It will convince her you are not a hallucination." Next to Cas, Dean's expression darkened and he mumbled something that made Cas twitch. Sam took one of Amitiel's hands and pressed it to his chest, directly over the center of heat. Just like with Cas, she went stiff, her eyes flying open.

"Sam," she breathed.

"Yeah. We'll explain later. Let's get you out of here."

She frowned. "No...if they catch you, they'll destroy you..."

"Apparently I've been granted salvation," Sam informed her. "They can't touch me."

"They can still hurt you," she mumbled as Sam stood, cradling her in his arms. Her wings draped over onto onto the ground, and Sam hesitated for a moment, reluctant to move and accidentally harm them.

"Ami, you have to fold your wings," he told her. She lifted her head and frowned. Her wings stirred, twitched, and then finally managed to retract. Sam handed her up to Dean while he scrambled out himself. He went to take Ami back and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

Dean hauled Cas back to his feet and exchanged a look with Sam. "All right. Next stop, the Garden."

XxxXxxX

They'd long ago gotten bored with Speed and had cycled through Hearts, Blackjack, Go Fish, and were currently working on Poker when there came a quiet tapping on the wall nearest to Mallory. She startled at the sudden noise and lunged away from the wall, scattering playing cards as she went. Jimmy shot to his feet, spinning to face the wall and putting himself squarely between it and Mallory.

A crack appeared in the wall, horizontal at about head-height. Another appeared perpendicular to the first, running down to meet the floor. A third appeared to form a doorway, and then the door slowly opened outwards, revealing a rectangle of golden light. Mallory stepped up beside Jimmy, but he pushed her behind him again. She grabbed his arm and peered out around him.

A silhouette blocked the light in the doorway, weirdly deformed. It took a moment for Jimmy's eyes to adjust to what he was seeing. It was a man, dressed in jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a dark blazer. His eyes were pale blue and his hair blonde. What had made his outline so strange were the wings arching over his head, the feathers pale gold.

"Oh, my God," Mallory whispered.

The angel (because it had to be an angel, right?) gave them both a hard, icy stare. "Come with me," he ordered in a clipped, British accent.

"I think we'll pass," Jimmy said, pulling himself up defiantly. The angel cocked an eyebrow. His sword slid down his sleeve into his hand.

"I don't recall giving you a choice," he sneered.


	15. Chapter 15

The angel stepped back from the doorway but was still visible, his sword raised threateningly. Jimmy glanced back at Mallory, who just shrugged. "Do we have another option?" she asked. Jimmy shook his head and she shrugged again. Jimmy slowly made his way through the doorway, always keeping himself between the angel and Mallory. The angel never took his eyes off of them.

They were now standing in a plain, unadorned hallway made entirely of some faintly-glowing gold material. There was a natural, comforting light without any visible sources. The angel gestured with his sword. "This way," he ordered tersely. Jimmy nudged Mallory in front of him and began walking, the angel falling in behind them.

"Where are we?" Jimmy asked after a moment. "Why were we being held?"

Mallory looked over her shoulder. "And how come we can see your wings?" she added, staring at the shimmering plumage.

"This is heaven, the angel sector," he replied. Jimmy missed his next step and almost fell into Mallory, who had stopped dead and spun around.

"Heaven?" she demanded, a squeak in her voice. "This is _heaven_? We're _dead_?"

"The archangel Raphael was less then gentle in extracting the traitors from their vessels," the angel explained, his voice and expression deadpan. "You were pulled out of your bodies, as well. You were being held securely pending their execution after which you will be released to your own heavens."

Mallory shrieked in rage and launched herself at the angel. Jimmy managed to catch her just in time and she flailed against him, trying to break his hold. "You touch them and I'll kill you!" she screamed at the angel. "You hear me? I'll fucking _kill_ you!"

He darted forward, and, before Jimmy could react, slapped his hand over Mallory's mouth. "Be silent," he hissed. "Your histrionics will only attract attention. If we're going to make it to the Garden, you must _be silent._"

Mallory abruptly went limp in Jimmy's arms, staring at the angel with wide, confused eyes. The angel slowly lifted his hand from her mouth. "Who are you?" she whispered.

"My name is Balthazar," he said. "I'm a friend of Castiel's. I'm to take you to the Garden, where we will meet the others and get you back to earth. Now will you come quietly?"

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jimmy asked suspiciously, still holding Mallory protectively.

Balthazar smirked. "You don't." He brushed past them down the hallway and turned to look at them over his shoulder. "You coming, or not?" Jimmy and Mallory exchanged a look, came to a silent agreement, and hurried after him.

XxxXxxX

Sam wasn't even sure they were going in the right direction. Of course the concept of "direction" was entirely relative in a place like this, but all they had to go on were Castiel's vague instructions that were most often just a gesture or a nod. Both of the angels were pretty out of it, only responding after much prompting.

In Sam's arms, Amitiel occasionally flinched and twitched, faint gasps escaping her lips. Her eyes darted back and forth beneath her lids and her hand clutched his shirt over the Mark, which radiated heat at the contact. It seemed to comfort her, because when Sam tried to put her down so he could scout ahead, she whimpered and clutched him tighter. So Dean had to lower Cas to the ground and jog down (up?) the stairs to make sure the coast was clear.

He came skidding back in a rush. "Go, go!" he hissed, grabbing Cas and shoving him toward the nearest archway. Sam hurried behind them but they were swept off their feet the moment they crossed the threshold, sliding down the wall and landing on the new floor in a heap. They lay there for a moment, hardly daring to breathe, as footsteps clattered down the stairs outside.

When they passed, Sam carefully picked himself up, gathering Amitiel up once more. Cas had lost consciousness in the meantime, curled up on the floor with one arm flung over his face. Dean crouched next to him with a sigh. "Cas, come on, man. We need to keep moving. Cas?" He shook the angel's shoulder. When Cas didn't respond, Dean reached over and ran his palm down Cas' nearest wing. Sure enough, Cas jerked and came awake with a grunt, mumbling something in Enochian.

"English, dude," Dean reminded him.

Cas mumbled something else and pointed. Sam turned. There was another doorway behind them, this one oriented to the room's center of gravity. He poked his head out cautiously. The hallway was empty. "Coast's clear," he called to Dean. Dean nodded and dragged Castiel to his feet, maneuvering himself under Cas' arm.

The hallway ended in a T-intersection. As they stood waiting for Castiel to come to a decision, something made Sam look up. They were standing at the bottom of a deep, square shaft. It took him a moment to recognize it as another hallway, as there were doorways spaced along the sides. A trio of figures abruptly appeared from one, and before Sam could cry out a warning, the newcomers caught sight of them.

"Sam!"

Dean's head jerked upwards at the familiar voice. Mallory was running down the vertical hallway towards them, Jimmy close on her heels. The third was a male angel, his blonde wings sweeping along behind him as he hurried after the humans. Mallory hesitated when she got to the intersection, and then cautiously jumped across the gravity barrier, landing heavily.

"The hell you're doing here?" Sam demanded, his eyes wide.

"The archangel Raphael killed us when he yanked Cas and Ami back to heaven," Jimmy said, still standing in the vertical hallway and eying them warily. The angel came up behind him and pushed him roughly. Jimmy stumbled forward and caught himself next to Dean, almost crashing into Castiel.

Castiel and Jimmy blinked at each other for a moment, different expressions on identical faces. Dean looked from one to the other and then s hook his head. Mallory stepped close to Sam, her face concerned.

"Ami?" she asked, reaching out to touch her doppelganger's arm. At the contact, Amitiel flinched and opened her eyes, turning her head in Mallory's direction.

"Mallory?" the angel muttered.

"Yeah, I'm here," Mal said quickly. "It's gonna be okay." She looked up at Sam. "Hey. You all right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Fine."

"This reunion is touching, it really is," the angel said dryly. "Now can we please get out of here?"

"And who the hell are you?" Dean said, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Balthazar," Castiel said, lurching away from Dean and reaching a hand toward the other male angel. Balthazar caught him before Castiel could fall.

"Whoa, there, Cas," he said. "You look awful. Just take it easy, all right?"

"You should not have taken the risk," Castiel said, his voice thick. "They will kill you."

"They'll have to catch me first," Balthazar replied lightly. "Come on, now, children. We can't stay here chatting."

Dean and Jimmy each took one of Castiel's arms as Balthazar brushed past them down the left-hand corridor. Mallory fell into step with Sam, and when Ami reached out toward the girl with her free hand, Mal took it in a tight grip, squeezing reassuringly.

They moved faster now, Balthazar leading them with confidence. After a short while, however (time seemed as relative as gravity, here), the angel jerked to a halt and looked up toward the ceiling.

"Oh, shit," he said. The humans stared at him, startled to hear such a word come from an angel. Balthazar looked back down. "They've discovered Cas and Ami are gone," he explained tersely. "The alert has gone out. We have to move." He took off at a jog, now, the others hurrying to keep up. They emerged out onto a terrace, a sheer drop on either side of the walkway. It seemed to stretch out for miles ahead of them, terminating in some kind of heavy gate in the distance. Balthazar skidded to a halt again and whirled around.

"Go!" he ordered, gesturing behind him to the gate. "The Garden is through those doors. I'll hold off the others. Go!" he yelled when they hesitated.

"Balthazar," Castiel tried to protest, but Jimmy and Dean tugged him past the angel. As Sam passed Balthazar, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against Amitiel's hair, a wistful smile on his face.

"Take care of them," he told Sam softly. Sam nodded and Mallory released Amitiel's hand to grab Balthazar's arm.

"Thank you," she said gravely. Balthazar stooped to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Go," he ordered again. He watched them hurry off toward the distant gate. Then he turned his back on them and drew his sword. Kadmiel appeared next to him, folding her chestnut wings. She looked pale and haggard. They exchanged a long look before standing shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the walkway to all comers.

It wasn't long until the others arrived, filling the hallway in front of the terrace, all with naked blades and grim expressions. They didn't move forward, however, but held their ground, waiting. Sick apprehension pooled in Balthazar's stomach. Then the others began to move aside, starting in the back and moving like a wave toward the two rebels.

Raphael strode slowly through the parting crowd, his massive blue wings nearly touching the ceiling above him and dragging on the ground behind. Balthazar swallowed and felt a tremor pass through Kadmiel's body before they both squared their shoulders and lifted their wings aggressively. The archangel came to a halt a couple of yards in front of the two, hands clasped behind his back, and stared at them silently. Everyone waited with bated breath, unsure of what would happen next.

"Stand aside," Raphael finally said, his deep voice commanding.

"No," Balthazar replied immediately.

Raphael lifted an eyebrow. "You defy me?" he accused mildly.

"Damn straight," Balthazar told him. Kadmiel nodded in agreement. Raphael tilted his head to the side.

"You have obviously been corrupted by the traitors," he rumbled. "Stand down now and your punishment will not be severe."

"We cannot do that, sir," Kadmiel said, her voice soft.

Raphael's eyes narrowed as they darted from one rebel angel to the other. "This is your choice? To stand against all of heaven? Your brothers and sisters? You are willing to throw all of this away for a handful of puling humans and two exiles?"

Balthazar shrugged. "It's the right thing to do," he said simply.

The archangel sneered and glanced at their swords. "You cannot think you will escape this," he told them. "I will destroy both of you without hesitation."

"We don't have to escape," Balthazar said with a smirk. Kadmiel glanced over her shoulder. The gate behind them stood open. She looked back at Balthazar and nodded. "We only have to stall you for...oh, about this long," Balthazar went on.

Fury blazed in Raphael's eyes and he stepped forward, all six wings unfolding while lightening crackled along the indigo pinions. Everything about his presence tried to force Kadmiel and Balthazar to submit, to drop to their knees, but they resisted, the effort leaving them weak and gasping. Raphael stepped closer, his shadow falling over them, but still they didn't back down. He reached out, two fingers touching each of them, and his power rushed out over them.

As Dean, Sam, and the others passed through the gate, there was a flash of white light behind them and a high-pitched scream, accompanied by a clap of thunder. They flinched and spun around, but the gate slammed closed, blocking off their view. Amitiel cried out, burying her face against Sam's neck, and Castiel made a sound half-way between a growl and a sob, sagging against Dean and Jimmy.

For a moment they stood in silence, chests heaving and throats burning. Sam lifted his head and looked around, blinking blearily. They were surrounded by lush, green plants, the air moist and birds singing from invisible perches. Mallory took a cautious step away from Sam's side, spinning around in place as she stared with wide eyes.

A cobblestone path lay underneath their feet and greenish-gold light filtered through the leaves overhead. Unrecognizable flowers wafted delicate perfume into the air and jeweled butterflies flitted from blossom to blossom.

Castiel straightened, pulling away from Jimmy and Dean. His face was hard, eyes implacable. "This way," he said, his voice rough. He stepped forward along the path, stumbling slightly but waving Dean off when the human tried to catch him. Dean looked questioningly at Jimmy, who just shrugged and followed Castiel.

They made their way silently down the path, matching Cas' slow, unsure pace. Amitiel stirred in Sam's arms, releasing her hold on him and twisting awkwardly. He set her on her feet and she swayed, catching herself against him before pushing away to stand on her own. Mallory stepped in front of Amitiel, staring into her dark eyes. The angel met her gaze for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. Mal extended her hand and Ami took it.

It wasn't long until they reached the point where seven paths converged in a small, round courtyard. A man stood waiting for them. He was dark-skinned, with gray in his receding hair and beard. His clothing was humble and his wings were a nondescript sandy color, completely uninteresting.

"Hello, children," he greeted gently.

"Joshua," Castiel nodded back.

Joshua spread his hands towards them. "I'm so happy you made it. I was worried that you wouldn't. It's so very important that you return to your work."

"You're the one that's going to get us back to earth?" Dean asked.

Joshua nodded gravely. "I am."

"Wait," Castiel said, taking a step toward Joshua. "You speak to God. You've heard His voice. Where is He?"

"He is on earth," Joshua said. "But you already knew this. You've been looking for Him for some time now, Castiel."

"We must speak to Him," Castiel insisted.

Joshua held up a hand. "He already knows everything you wish to tell Him," he said, almost sadly. "And He has a message for you." He hesitated a moment, and then continued, "'Back off.'"

Castiel's head came up and back, his wings fluttering in shock. "What?"

"Our Father is aware of what is going on," Joshua continued. "He just doesn't think that it's His problem."

"Not His problem?" Castiel echoed, his voice breaking. "How can this not be His problem? His children are going to destroy the world!"

"Maybe," Joshua said with a faint shrug. "Maybe not."

"He is the only one who can stop Lucifer," Castiel insisted, feathers rippling. His fists clenched at his sides and he took another step toward the other angel. Joshua did not seem perturbed.

"No, He's not," he said simply.

Castiel was about to speak again, but Dean stepped forward and put his hand on his shoulder. "Cas, just stop," he said darkly. "It's not going to make a difference. Just another deadbeat dad who doesn't care."

Castiel abruptly wilted, wings drooping to the ground. "I believed," he began, but his voice choked off.

"I'm sorry," Joshua said sincerely. "But He's already interfered more than He has in a long time. He believes He's done enough."

Mallory looked over at Amitiel, who looked like she was going into shock. She let go of the angel's hand and slipped her arm around Ami's waist, hugging the angel tightly to her side. Amitiel shuddered and extended a wing to wrap around Mallory, enfolding her in the soft, warm plumage.

"And now," Joshua said. "It's time for you to return. If it's any consolation, I'm rooting you children. I know you'll do your best." He lifted his hands. Before they could protest, a white light rushed toward them and enveloped them in brightness and noise.

Sam gasped his way back to life, lunging up from the bed and scrabbling at his chest. The front of his shirt was wet and sticky, full of shot-sized holes. Beside him, Amitiel jerked to the side, tumbling off the edge of the bed and landing on top of Castiel, who was lying on the floor in between the beds. Mary lurched to her feet with a faint scream, pressing her hands to her mouth. She stared at them with huge, tear-filled eyes, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Sam tried to take everything in, the motel room, Dean on the other bed, Amitiel cradling Castiel in her arms, murmuring in Enochian. Dean was the first to recover, sliding to his feet and approaching Mary cautiously, his hands out placatingly.

"Mom," he called softly. "Hey, are you okay?"

"You were dead," she whispered. "You...you were dead, both of you."

"I know," Dean said. "I know. But...we're back now. It's okay. Mom, it's okay."

Mary gave a strangled sob and flung herself into Dean, rocking him back on his heels. He folded his arms around her, resting his cheek against her hair. "It's okay," he murmured again. Sam moved to the edge of the bed and looked down at the angels.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and the words felt incredibly inadequate. Amitiel looked up at him with lifeless eyes. Castiel suddenly pushed away from her, lurching to his feet. He stumbled a step towards the door before turning sharply back and thrusting his fisted hand toward Dean.

"This isn't needed anymore," he said gruffly.

Dean frowned and extended his hand. Castiel slapped the golden amulet into Dean's palm. Then he vanished with a whisper of disturbed air. Sam looked back at Amitiel. She'd drawn her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. Her eyes were still blank and empty.

"Oh, God," Sam breathed, and sank down onto the floor next to her. She leaned into his side, hiding her face behind a fall of pale hair.

Mary pulled away from Dean and looked over at Sam and Ami. "What...what happened?" she asked hesitantly. Dean looked down at the necklace in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the pendant.

"It's a long story," he said thickly. "We'll tell you later. Let's just get out of here." He turned and walked toward the bathroom, grabbing a clean shirt as he went. As he passed the trashcan, he hesitated, and then dropped the pendant in with a quiet "clink."


	16. Chapter 16

Bobby's house was silent except for the patter of rain and the creaks and groans of a settling foundation. Mary stood by the window in the library and stared out at the gray-washed world. "We shouldn't have let them go," she said quietly.

"I doubt we coulda stopped 'em," Bobby replied. "Besides, they needed to get out. Being cooped up here's no good for them."

She crossed her arms, hugging herself to fight off the chill she couldn't seem to shake. "You know them, Bobby. Are they all right?"

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "To be honest, I don't think they've been all right since John died."

Mary shivered at his words. Her sons hadn't spoken much after their resurrection, reluctant to give even the barest details of their time in heaven. But whatever it was, whatever they had seen, it had robbed them of what little hope they had left. The immediate departure of Castiel hadn't seemed to help. Amitiel had been catatonic for nearly twenty-four hours before she'd abruptly disappeared, too. The thought that some event could so utterly break two _angels_ scared Mary down to her core.

"This world is so broken," she murmured, mostly to herself. "Why would anyone want to save it?"

"Sheer bad habit?" Bobby offered, pouring out two glasses of whiskey. Mary crossed over to the desk to take hers. They tossed the alcohol back at the same time, Mary grimacing at the burn. She rolled the glass in her fingers.

"What am I supposed to do, Bobby?" she asked, not looking at him. "I was brought back to be used as leverage against my own sons. I want to help them, but they're practically strangers to me. What are we supposed to do now?"

"Contrary to what your boys think," Bobby told her, offering her the whiskey bottle. "I'm not the man with the answers. I don't know any more'n the next person."

She took the bottle and poured herself another glass. Bobby's cell phone rang, and he glared at it for a minute before picking up. "What?" he demanded gruffly. His expression immediately became contrite. "Oh, sorry, Ellen. I didn't know it was you."

Mary swallowed the whiskey and put down her glass. She'd heard Sam and Dean mention Ellen's name, along with her daughter, Jo. A couple of hunters who'd helped them out in some tight spots. They'd always spoken fondly of the pair.

"Just a bad couple of days," Bobby was saying wearily. "But we're all fine. Mostly. How's Jo?" Bobby paused to listen and his expression darkened. "Dammit, Ellen, you were supposed to sit this round out, not go sniffing for trouble! Is she even walking yet?" He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sam 'n Dean are out on a hunt out in Indiana. I'll ring up Rufus and see if he can make it out there."

Mary leaned forward. "They need help on a hunt?" she asked quietly. Bobby met her eye and nodded. "I'll go," she offered. He gave her a startled, quizzical look and she pressed her lips together. "I can handle it," she insisted.

Bobby hesitated, and then turned back to his cell phone. "Actually, I'm sending someone else. Another friend. She can be there in about eight hours. What's the address?" He scribbled something down. "All right. You take care, Ellen." He hung up and leveled a look at Mary. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she said peevishly, reaching over to pluck the scrap of paper from his fingers. "Sterling, Colorado? What's going on?"

"Happy couple ate each other to death," Bobby replied, reaching into a desk drawer. "Second one this week. The whole town's full of weird crap. Ellen got a little overwhelmed." He tossed a manila envelope onto the desk. "You'll need this."

Mary frowned and picked it up. "What is it?"

"Dean asked me to make it for you after you arrived," was all Bobby would say. She opened it and reached inside.

There was a cell phone, a South Dakota driver's license under "Mary Campbell," a birth certificate for the same identity that put her age as not much older than Dean's, a social security card, two credit cards with two different aliases, and a false FBI badge with the name "Diana Prince." Mary stared at the last for a moment.

"Diana Prince?" she asked. "Really?"

Bobby shook his head. "Don't look at me. That was all Dean." He nodded towards the kitchen. "You can use the Maverick. The keys are hanging up by the back door."

"Thanks," Mary replied, putting everything back into the envelope. She held it up. "I appreciate this."

Bobby harrumphed. "Welcome to your new life."

XxxXxxX

Mary stopped in front of the motel door and checked the scrap of paper in her hand again. Then she reached up and knocked twice. There was a moment of silence before the door swung open. The woman on the other side was about Mary's own height, blonde, and looked to be a few years older than Mary. She looked Mary up and down.

"You must be Bobby's friend," she said briskly, extending a hand. "Ellen Harvelle."

"Mary Campbell," Mary replied. Ellen had a firm grip and a quick smile, stepping back to allow Mary to enter the room. Mary stepped over the threshold, dropping her bag in the corner and glancing around. A young woman, somewhere in her early twenties, was sitting on the far bed, an open laptop in front of her. She had one leg tucked up underneath her, the other extended straight.

"My daughter, Jo," Ellen introduced.

"Hi," Jo said cheerfully, giving a little wave. Mary nodded back.

"What're the details on this hunt?" Mary asked, pulling out a chair and dropping into it, leaning forward to prop her elbows on her knees. "Bobby mentioned couples eating each other to death?"

"Nasty, isn't it?" Ellen said, pulling a face. "Two in a week. Plus three mutual suicides. Husband and wife, boyfriend girlfriend, and boyfriend boyfriend."

"So we think that whatever it is, is targeting romantic couples?" Mary asked, frowning.

"So far, that's the pattern," Ellen confirmed.

"I've been trying to track down anything in lore that might cover this," Jo put in. "There's tons of stuff on male and female pairs of sacrifices. A lot of the pagan fertility gods and goddesses required them. But the gay couple is throwing me off. I don't know if it's a fluke and I'm afraid to discount it in case we miss something."

Mary nodded. "That's probably smart. Have you examined any of the bodies yet?"

"Waiting on you," Ellen replied. "Looks better to go in with a partner and she's not allowed to walk for another week." She nodded her head at Jo, who made a face. "You got a cover ID?"

"FBI," Mary replied.

"Right. Let's get into costume and head out."

They took Ellen's pick up to the morgue, the ride beginning in silence until Ellen abruptly asked, "How long you been in the game?"

Mary exhaled slowly through her nose. "Born in it. My family's been hunters for generations." She looked over at Ellen. "You?"

"Actively?" Ellen gave a wry smirk. "Just about a year. But I was married to one for over ten years. He taught me a thing or two."

"It's not easy, balancing the work with a family," Mary replied quietly.

"Don't I know it," Ellen agreed. "You have kids?"

"Two boys," Mary said before she could stop herself.

"You raising them in the life?"

Mary hesitated for a long moment. "It's what their father wanted," she said at length, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Ellen glanced at her sidelong and said nothing.

The medical examiner was a rotund, balding man who smelled faintly of aftershave and brandy and was very willing to help the two attractive female FBI agents. "There's not much of the bodies left," he said apologetically, leading them back into the cooler room. He paused at the wall of body lockers. "It's not very pretty, are you sure you want to—"

"We'll be fine," Ellen assured him. He shrugged and opened one of the lockers, pulling the tray out. Rather than a cadaver, there were three plastic bins, each one labeled. Mary's eyebrows shot up.

"I tried to warn you," the ME said with a sigh. Ellen reached for the box of latex gloves. The ME showed no signs of leaving.

"We can take it from here," Mary said, accepting a pair of gloves from Ellen. He hesitated.

"Are you certain you—"

"Thank you for all your help," Mary said firmly. "But we really will be fine."

Once they were alone, Ellen took the lid off the first bin and looked in. The blood drained from her face and she put the lid back on. "Aw, hell," she muttered.

Mary grimaced. "That bad?"

"Yeah." Ellen took a deep breath and took the lid back off. Mary peered over her shoulder. She saw a heart, a stomach, something that could have been part of a liver, and something else she was pretty sure was most of a large intestine. She turned around, plucked two face masks from the nearby table, and handed one to Ellen.

"Found anything interesting?" Ellen asked dryly a couple of minutes later. Mary swallowed hard and put the heart down on a paper-lined tray.

"Not so far. You?"

"No." Ellen snorted. "This is far more about human anatomy than I ever wanted to know."

"Agreed," Mary replied. She was about to put the heart back in the bin when something caught her eye. She rubbed at the mark on the organ, trying to deduce what it was. She leaned closer. "Ellen, take a look at this."

Ellen leaned over. "What?" Mary pointed and the other woman squinted. "The hell?" Ellen muttered. "Is that...some kind of brand?"

"It looks like it," Mary said. "Check the other one, see if there's a mark on it, too."

"Well what d'you know?" Ellen said, peering down at the other heart. Mary stripped off her gloves and retrieved her notebook and pen to copy the marking down. "You ever seen anything like that?"

"I don't recognize it," Mary shook her head. "Maybe Jo can find something on it?"

"I hope so," Ellen said, taking off her own gloves and putting the lids back on the bins. "It's the only lead we've got."

XxxXxxX

Jo studied the symbol for a long time, tilting her head thoughtfully. "It looks old," she said, mostly to herself. "Maybe something left over from a ritual or curse?"

"Did you find any hex bags at the scene?" Mary asked.

Ellen shook her head. "No. Not that I'm complaining, though."

"I'll check to see if I can find anything on it," Jo said, putting the notebook down. "But I think we'll probably end up calling Bobby again. As you can see, we're a little limited on resources." She waved at the small stack of books on the bed beside her.

"Just do what you can," Ellen told her daughter. Jo huffed, a look of frustration passing over her face. Ellen gave her a sympathetic glance.

"Should we push for autopsies on the suicides?" Mary asked, settling into a chair. "See if their hearts have the same marking?"

"Probably wouldn't hurt," Ellen said with a shrug. She opened the mini-fridge. "You want a beer?"

"After this afternoon, please." Mary took the can gratefully. She opened it and took the first sip when Jo hissed a surprised breath.

Both the older women turned to stare at her at the same time. "What is it?" they demanded in chorus.

"I think I found where that symbol is from," Jo said, looking uncomfortable and wary at the same time. She looked from one woman to the other. "It's Enochian."

"Oh, crap," Ellen said, sinking down into another chair.

"Enochian?" Mary echoed, just to be sure she'd heard correctly.

Ellen hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mary with something akin to suspicion. Then she said slowly, "Enochian is the language of the angels."

"I know that," Mary assured her. "But do we really think that _angels_ are involved in this?"

"They're real, I'll tell you that much," Ellen said, rubbing her face.

"Why on earth would the angels want this..." Mary trailed off and gestured instead. "All of this?"

"Who knows _what_ the angels want?" Ellen muttered, taking a long drink from her beer.

"We can find out," Jo suggested, shooting her own hesitant gaze at Mary. Mary was starting to get tired of her decision to conceal her true identity, but the truth would take too much explaining. Ellen gave Jo a shrewd look. "We could call Cas," Jo continued.

Ellen chewed on her lower lip, rubbing her eyes. "I don't know," she said slowly. "We haven't heard anything from him since—" she cut herself off and darted yet another glance at Mary.

Mary sighed and shook her head. "I've met Castiel," she said impatiently. "And Amitiel. But I don't know if they'll answer a call right now."

Ellen blinked at her for a moment. "What makes you think that?" she asked, obviously pushing her surprise aside.

"Something happened recently, I don't know what," Mary said quickly when Jo seemed to want to jump in with a question. "But it shook them both up. Badly. The last time I saw Amitiel..." she shook her head. "She was practically catatonic."

Ellen opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shut it with a click of teeth. "Wow," was what she finally said. Jo reached for her phone.

"I'm calling Bobby," she announced.

XxxXxxX

Mary sank into the chair with a sigh, reaching down to slip off the heels. "Who decided that these things should be standard for career dress?" she asked, tossing them into a corner. Ellen groaned and kicked off her own shoes and pulled the pins keeping her hair up.

"I don't know, but if I meet him, I'm gonna beat him with one."

"Him?" Jo echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You think a woman would be that dumb?" Ellen shot back.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Did you find anything?"

"The suicides didn't have markings on their hearts," Mary said wearily. "They may not even be connected."

Jo collapsed back against the pile of pillows. "Great," she muttered. "So, what? We've got _another_ nasty killing people off?"

Before either of the older women could reply, there was a quiet thud from the kitchenette. Mary and Ellen were on their feet in a second, guns drawn. Castiel blinked blearily at them and closed the door to the mini fridge, bottled water in one hand.

"Bobby said you had a...situation," he said, his words oddly slurred. He took a step forward, lurched, and caught himself against the wall.

"Cas?" Ellen said, lowering her pistol. "Are you...are you okay?"

He fumbled with the cap of the bottled water and managed to get it off, dropping it to the ground. "I'm fine," he said testily. "What do you need?"

The three women continued to stare at him while he tilted the bottle back and drank half the water in one go. "Uh..." Jo finally broke the silence. "We found a symbol on the hearts of two of our victims. We think it might be Enochian."

Castiel pushed away from the wall and managed a few steps before lurching again. Mary caught him by the arm, keeping him on his feet.

"Castiel...are you...drunk?" she asked hesitantly.

He gave her a glare from red-rimmed eyes. "No," he insisted. He shook himself free of her grip, took another step, and made it to the bed Jo was sitting on. He sat down as if his legs had suddenly gave out. "Yes," he admitted.

There was another round of shocked stares from the humans. "What happened?" Jo blurted.

"I found a liquor store," Castiel mumbled before draining the rest of the water.

"And?" Jo prompted.

"I drank it," he snapped. "Where is this symbol?"

Jo silently handed him the notebook. Castiel glanced at the symbol for only a moment before tossing it back onto the bed. "It is Enochian," he confirmed. He dropped his head to his chest and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What does it mean?" Mary asked, eying the angel uncertainly. He lifted his head again, squinting at her.

"It's a binding symbol," he told her, his voice rough and gravelly. "Put on the hearts of two people meant to fall in love with each other. For heaven's purposes."

"You mean...like Cupid, or something?" Jo asked, retrieving her notebook.

"They're called cherubs," Castiel corrected her. "The lowest order of angels."

"Why would heaven be concerned about who falls in love?" Ellen asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"Breeding, usually," Castiel said with a grunt. "Vessels, or prophets." He blinked, frowned, and then asked, "You saw the marking on the hearts themselves?"

"Yeah. They ate each other to death," Ellen informed him. He blinked at her again.

"Why would they do that?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Ellen said. She gave him a look. "Cas, what the hell happened?"

He glowered. "It is not of import. We need to find the cherub that marked these people." He got to his feet and nearly overbalanced. Mary put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"You are not going anywhere," she told him firmly. When he looked about to protest, she continued. "You're wasted. You're not going to be much good."

"You won't be able to find the cherub on your own," he told her peevishly.

"Then have Amitiel come help us," Mary replied. She hesitated, and then asked, "She's not drunk, too, is she?"

"She tried," he said, rubbing his nose. "She didn't like the taste." He screwed his eyes shut, fingers coming up to his temple. He relaxed after a moment and opened his eyes. "She'll be here shortly."

"Great," Ellen said, sitting back down. "So that's our theory? Cupid gone rogue?"

"Cherub," Castiel corrected again.

"This is gonna be fun," Jo muttered, reaching for the orange prescription bottle on the nightstand. She popped it open and took two pills dry. "An angel hunt. Yay."

Castiel glared at her but said nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

Nobody realized Amitiel had arrived until Ellen came back from a food and beer run. She put the beer in the refrigerator and turned around to find the girl standing against the wall, staring with dark, empty eyes. Ellen jumped with a curse, her heart racing.

"Dammit, Ami," she said, putting a hand on her heart. "Don't _do_ that."

"My apologies," the angel replied mechanically. As Ellen's heart rate slowed, she peered closely at Amitiel. Her expression was as blank and empty as her dark eyes. She stood with her hands at her sides, fingers occasionally twitching. Not for the first time, Ellen wondered what on earth had happened to the angels.

"Are you all right?" Ellen asked gently, reaching out to put her hand on Amitiel's shoulder. The angel flinched before Ellen could touch her, and she snatched her hand away.

"I'm fine," Amitiel said, unknowingly echoing her brother's earlier words. Ellen eyed her but knew the futility of pushing the angel for an answer. Amitiel pushed away from the wall and edged around Ellen, ensuring that they did not touch.

Mary looked up as Amitiel passed her but the angel didn't look around, so Mary held her tongue. Jo, however, perked up. "Ami," she greeted. "It's really good to see you. How's Mal?"

"She is well," Amitiel said, her voice still lacking inflection. She crossed the room over to where Castiel was sitting on the other bed, hands cradling his head. She reached out and touched his shoulder lightly. Castiel jerked his head up, wincing at the quick movement. He greeted her in Enochian and she replied in kind. The conversation went back and forth for another minute, Castiel slurred and Amitiel robotic. Finally, Amitiel pressed her lips together and nodded once. Then she looked over her shoulder at Mary and Ellen.

"If we are to track down this cherub, we need to leave now."

The female angel led them to a high-end bar. Mary and Ellen, in their FBI costumes, blended in with the other patrons. Amitiel, wearing one of Sam's flannels over a gray t-shirt, stood out like a sore thumb and received dirty looks from the waitresses, but the angel didn't even notice.

"Is it here?" Ellen asked in a low voice when the three women took a table.

"No," Amitiel said, staring at something over Ellen's shoulder. Ellen raised her eyebrows.

"No?" she echoed. "Then why are _we_ here?"

"It will come," Amitiel replied heavily.

"Okay, in that case, I'm getting a beer," Ellen said, getting to her feet. "Mary?"

"I'm good, thanks," Mary said. When Ellen walked away, Mary turned to the angel. "Amitiel, please tell me what's going on. First Castiel, now you...you're starting to scare me."

For the first time since she arrived, Amitiel actually met someone's gaze. She stared at Mary for a long moment. "When we were in heaven..." She swallowed and cut herself off. Her gaze darted away again. "My brother and I were tortured. We are still recovering." Something about her tone told Mary it wasn't what she was originally going to say.

"I'm sorry," Mary said softly. Amitiel nodded distractedly, her eyes suddenly narrow and focused on something else.

"It's here," she said sharply, sliding off her chair. "Meet me in the back." Then she vanished, ruffling Mary's hair. The hunter sighed and went to go get Ellen. They found Amitiel in the kitchen, her hand outstretched towards empty air.

"I have him tethered," she told them tightly when the humans approached. "Show yourself," she growled, her voice dropping half an octave. There was a rustle of air, and then the cherub appeared.

"Sister!" he yodeled happily stepping toward Amitiel with open arms. She took a long step backward, hand still raised warningly, and barked something in Enochian. The cherub stopped dead, looking ridiculously put-out. He asked her a question in the same language, but Amitiel shook her head.

"_This_ is killer?" Ellen muttered out of the corner of her mouth to Mary. Mary didn't reply, her eyes very wide. When she'd pictured a cherub this...wasn't it. Definitely not a tubby, _naked_ man that resembled nothing more than a human teddy bear.

"Why did you kill those people?" Amitiel demanded in English, her voice harsh. The cherub blinked.

"What people?" he asked almost petulantly.

"They were branded," Amitiel snapped. "You had marked them for each other."

"Yes, but I didn't _kill_ anyone," the cherub insisted. "I was just doing my rounds!"

"They _ate_ each other to death," Ellen cut in. "Don't try to tell me that's normal!"

"Wait, you mean _my_..." The cherub trailed off, eyes wide and wet. "They're dead? But that's _awful_! They were so perfect for each other! Who could do such a thing?"

The three women stared at him pointedly for a long moment. His eyes went even wider and his mouth formed an O. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" he said in a rush. "I didn't—I wouldn't _ever—_I can prove it! Read my mind, sister. I didn't hurt them, I promise."

Amitiel pressed her lips together but stepped forward, her fingertips coming up to rest on the cherub's temples. Her eyelids fluttered shut and they stood like that for a moment before Amitiel dropped her hands. "He speaks the truth," she said tersely. "He didn't kill them."

"Great. That puts us back to square one," Ellen muttered.

Mary cleared her throat. "Do you, uh, do you have any idea what might make the couple you marked for each other...kill each other?"

The cherub shrugged pathetically. "I don't know. I don't know much about killing. That's for the warriors. I'm a cherub. I just deal with love. And that's not love. No one who loved each other would do something like that." He shrugged again. "Something must be taking the love and twisting it into something evil. I don't like evil."

Amitiel shot him a sharp look. "Go about your rounds somewhere else," she told him. "We don't need you getting in the way here."

The cherub looked dangerously close to pouting, but he nodded. "I hope you find whoever is doing this. I don't like them very much." He vanished and Amitiel shook her head.

"So if it isn't the cherub," Mary began. "That what the hell is it?"

Amitiel drew in a deep breath. "Return to the hotel. I will search the town for other presences."

XxxXxxX

Jo opened a bottle of water to swallow two more pain pills before reaching for the take-out bag her mom had brought back. She pulled out a foil-wrapped hamburger and paused, glancing over at Castiel, still sitting on the other bed. "You want one?" she asked, holding the burger out to him.

He lifted his head, brow lowered, and opened his mouth. He abruptly stopped himself before he could speak and considered the burger for a couple of seconds. Then he reached out and took it from her, unwrapping the foil and sniffing at the food. Jo watched him curiously, forgetting to grab another for herself.

Castiel turned the burger in his hands, studying it from all angles. He poked at it, sniffed it again, and finally brought it to his mouth for a bite. He chewed slowly with a frown before swallowing and considering the burger again.

"It's like you've never had a burger before," Jo said, half-joking.

"I haven't," he replied, taking another bite. Jo blinked at him.

"Oh." She dug out her own burger and began to eat, sneaking glances over at the angel. After he finished the burger, he crumpled the foil and reached over to snag the paper bag, retrieving the last sandwich. He finished that one, too, and sat considering the crumpled foil in his hands. Then he abruptly vanished. Jo blinked at the place he had occupied before shrugging and finishing her own burger.

The door swung open and her mother and Mary walked in. Jo leaned forward, pushing aside the notebooks on her lap. "Did you get it?" she demanded.

"It wasn't Cupid," Ellen growled, heading straight to the fridge and grabbing a beer. She raised her eyebrow at Mary, but the other woman shook her head. "Ami took off. Said she was gonna check things out. Where's Cas?"

"He took off, too," Jo said, rubbing her face. "What the hell is going on, here, Mom?"

Ellen shrugged. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this before. Mary?"

Mary shook her head again. "I'm just as lost as you are. None of this is making sense."

Ellen's phone rang and she frowned as she set aside her beer and reached for it. "Yes?" Her frown deepened. "You're sure? All right. Thanks for letting me know." She hung up and turned to the other two women. "That was the ME. He said they just had another body brought in. Some guy binged on Twinkies to death."

"Are we sure it's related?" Mary asked.

"Actually, we are."

The three turned to look in the direction of the new voice. Amitiel stood by the door with her arms crossed, giving Castiel a strange look. He was holding a white paper bag in one hand and a half-eaten hamburger in the other. He was ignoring his sister and took another bite. "It's Famine," he continued while chewing.

"Famine?" Mary echoed, frowning. "As in one of the Four Horsemen?"

"Yes," Amitiel said darkly. "He's affecting the whole town. The cherub made the couples desire love, and Famine made them ravenous for it. He amplifies what you crave, whether it be sex, food," here she shot another look at Castiel, "Or alcohol." This time she sent a pointed look at Ellen.

Ellen slowly looked down at the beer in her hand. "Well, crap," she said. She put the beer on the table and pushed it away. "You're saying we've been affected?"

"It is likely," Amitiel said. She nodded toward Castiel. "His hunger was a clue. Our vessels have been influenced by Famine's hunger."

Jo rubbed her forehead and reached for her pain pills again. A slim hand closed like a vise around her wrist and she looked up to see Amitiel standing over her. "I understand it is dangerous to take too many painkillers in too short a time," she said, picking up the prescription bottle with her other hand and slipping it into her pocket.

"All right," Ellen said, leaning forward. "So I'm craving beer, Jo's craving drugs, and Cas is craving burgers. What about you, Ami?"

A sheepish expression passed suddenly over the female angel's face. "It isn't me," she muttered. "It is what Mallory craves."

"Well, what is it?" Ellen pressed.

"Sleep," Amitiel admitted reluctantly. "I am having difficulty staying awake."

"Fantastic." Ellen ran her fingers through her hair. "How do we kill Famine?"

"His ring," Mary put in. "Dean and Sam told me that they took War's ring. Famine is a Horseman, it should be the same for him, right?"

Castiel nodded and swallowed. "It is a sound theory. We'll need to find out where Famine is staying."

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jo demanded, thinking about the orange bottle in Ami's pocket.

"Lucifer will have sent demons to care for Famine," Castiel replied, finishing his burger and reaching into the bag for another one. Amitiel reached over and snatched it away from him with an annoyed expression. Cas frowned at her and said something in Enochian. Ami snapped a reply and made the paper bag disappear.

"Hey!" Ellen said, snapping her fingers. Both angels looked back to her. "Demons caring for Famine?"

"If we can track the demons, we'll find Famine," Amitiel finished, shooting another glare at her brother.

"Good," Ellen said, clapping her hands together briskly. "Then we have a plan." She got to her feet and abruptly turned to Mary. "How about you? What are you hankering for?"

"I'm feeling fine, actually," Mary said honestly. Everyone looked at her. "I don't know," she said defensively. "But I'm not craving anything."

Castiel crossed the motel room until he was standing in front of Mary, head tilted as he peered down at her. He reached up and placed two fingers against her forehead. "I sense nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "Why should you be immune?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

"We can deal with that later," Amitiel said. She blinked a couple of times and stifled a sudden yawn, taking a deep breath. "We need to eliminate Famine, and soon, before we are all incapacitated."

XxxXxxX

They had crammed into Ellen's truck, the angels in the back. Mary had insisted on driving despite the fact they'd poured all the beer down the drain and kept Ellen under constant surveillance. Jo was easier to care for, immobile as she was. The painkillers were still in Amitiel's pocket.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Ellen asked grumpily, staring out the window towards the diner. There was no reply from the back seat. Mary turned to look. Castiel was concentrating on the hamburger in his hands (when had he had time to get it?) and Amitiel was curled up, fast asleep. Mary sighed and shook her head. Then she reached back, snatched the burger from Cas and tossed it out the window. When Castiel gave her a dark look, she nodded pointedly at Amitiel. Castiel put his hand on his sister's shoulder and shook her gently. Amitiel jerked awake, eyes wide and startled.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Mary echoed Ellen's question.

"Yes," the angelic siblings muttered at the same time.

"All right. Let's go over the plan one more time," Mary said.

"Amitiel distracts the demons and I go after Famine," Castiel said, his voice betraying his annoyance. "Once we have the ring, we meet you back here."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Mary demanded. Both angels gave her identical looks and disappeared. "Oh, yes," Mary said under her breath. "This is going to go great."

Ellen crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her arm. Her knee began to bounce. Mary shot her a close look and noticed the flush on her cheeks. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Ellen snapped.

Mary sighed. "Just hang on for a little while longer, Ellen. It's almost over."

"This is taking too long," Ellen exclaimed a few minutes later. She pushed open the truck door. "I'm going after them."

"Ellen, wait!" Mary called, but it was too late. With a growl of frustration, Mary climbed out of the truck and went after the other woman. She entered through the back door, emerging into the kitchen. She came across the first body almost immediately, an apron-clad waitress sprawled over the greasy tiles. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and Mary proceeded silently and with great caution.

She caught a flash of pale hair and circled the counter to see Amitiel lying on her side just in front of the swing doors leading to the seating area. Her silver sword was clutched in one hand but she was limp and still. Mary went down on one knee and pressed her fingers against the angel's throat, reassured when she felt warm skin and a steady pulse.

There were voices coming from the other side of the doors. Mary stood and peered through the circular window. A shriveled old man sat in a wheelchair, flanked by four black-suited men. Off to one side, Castiel was crouched on the floor, shoveling raw meat into his mouth. Mary grimaced with disgust and looked for Ellen. The other hunter was kneeling in front of the old man, her skin pale and sweat trickling down her face.

It was the old man who was talking, his voice dry and thin as paper. He stopped suddenly, tilting his head. He gestured toward the kitchen doors. "Why don't you come join us, Mary?" he called weakly.

Mary whirled away from the doors, pressing her back against the wall. "Shit," she hissed. Footsteps approached and Mary considered fleeing, but she couldn't leave her companions behind. The door swung open and one of Famine's bodyguards stood there, his eyes demon-black. He bared his teeth in a shark's smile and beckoned with one hand. Mary stepped into the dining area and slowly circled until she stood beside Ellen in front of Famine.

Famine studied her with rheumy eyes for a long moment. "It's so curious to see you here," he rasped. "Considering you should be dead."

Mary swallowed and said nothing, reaching down to brush Ellen's shoulder encouragingly. The other woman didn't seem to notice Mary's presence.

"The angel Zachariah brought you back to use you against your own sons," Famine went on. "I would think this would sour your opinion of angels."

"Not all angels," Mary replied tightly.

"No," Famine agreed, looking pointedly over at Castiel. "You sent a dog after me. I threw him a bone. Really Mary, what were you hoping for?"

Mary didn't reply. Famine leaned forward, his eyes sharpening. "How strange... I see that my presence has no influence over you. Do you know why that is?"

She jerked her head "no," still refusing to speak.

Famine sat back. "Have you considered that maybe you were brought back wrong?" he suggested. "Who knows what the angels did to you before you were cast back to earth. After all, what better weapon to use against the Winchesters than their very own mother?"

Ellen jerked and almost toppled over, catching herself against the floor. Mary clenched her fists. "No," she said softly, dangerously. "No, that's not true."

Famine just smiled. "In any case, seeing as I cannot control you, you must be eliminated." He twitched his fingers at her and two of the demons moved forward. Mary took a long step back, but she was cut off from any escape. The demons closed in on her from both sides, hands reaching to seize her.

Mary let the angel sword drop from her sleeve and slashed it down on one of the demon's arms, slicing it down to the bone. She swung at the other, raking the tip across his chest. As the demons fell back, howling in pain, she lunged forward, straight toward Famine. The old man let out a cry but his guards were too slow and the silver blade slammed down on his wrist, cutting straight through weak muscle and fragile bone.

Famine vanished the moment his hand separated from his body and Ellen gasped, falling onto her hands and knees. Castiel whirled to his feet and slammed his blade into the closest demon's chest. Amitiel burst through the kitchen doors, her expression murderous, and Mary tossed the sword back to the angel, who snatched it out of the air and fell upon the remaining demons.

The enemy was slaughtered within moments, leaving both angels blood-spattered and breathing heavy. Both of them looked extremely pissed, and Castiel reached up to wipe his sleeve across his mouth. He muttered something to Amitiel and dropped down into the nearest booth, cradling his head in his hands.

Ami stepped over to his side and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hangover," she explained to Mary, who nodded and reached down to help Ellen up. Once Ellen was upright, Mary went over to the shriveled hand that was all that was left of Famine. She reached down and slid the ring from the finger, slipping it into her pocket.

"All right, let's get out of here," Mary said, turning toward the others. Ellen was staring at her like she was a ghost...or an enemy. "Ellen? Are you okay?"

"Who the hell are you?" Ellen growled. "What was he talking about?"

Mary sighed and closed her eyes.

"She is Mary Winchester, Dean and Sam's mother," Amitiel replied in a low voice. "Heaven brought her back to life to use her against the brothers."

Ellen's eyes widened. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "You're..._that_ Mary?"

"Yes," Mary said wearily. "I am."

"Oh, my God," Ellen said again, pressing one hand to her mouth. She stepped forward suddenly and enfolded Mary in a tight hug. "I am so, so sorry," she murmured into Mary's ear. She pulled away but didn't release Mary, peering into her eyes. "Are you all right? Are you...handling things?"

"I'm fine," Mary assured her, touched by the woman's compassion. "Thank you."

"Of course, any time," Ellen said quickly. "You ever need anything, you let me know, hear?"

"I will," Mary promised. "Now, really. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, good idea," Ellen agreed instantly. They turned toward the angels just in time to see them both stiffen, eyes staring at nothing. Amitiel clamped a hand on Castiel's arm and hissed something unintelligible.

"What is it?" Mary demanded, hurrying forward.

"Sam and Dean are in danger," Amitiel replied mechanically.

"What? How do you know?" Ellen asked, but both angels ignored her.

Castiel lurched to his feet and Amitiel forced him back down. He growled at her in Enochian but she shook her head. He tried to get back to his feet. Amitiel took a step away, turned to face him fully, and thrust one hand out at him. Castiel collapsed backwards with a pained cry, clutching at his chest. Mary caught him before he hit the ground, but when she turned to demand an explanation from Amitiel, the female angel was gone.

XXXXXX

A/N: Yes, I did leave out the cherub's "handshake." Why, you ask? Because naked guy hugging another guy? Funny. Naked guy hugging a girl? Creepy. And naked guy hugging a girl he calls sister? Gross.


	18. Chapter 18

Amitiel landed badly in her haste, stumbling and catching herself against a nearby car. It took her a moment to realize it was the Impala. She was in the parking lot of a hotel, the bright sign declaring it "The Elysian Fields."

Amitiel folded her wings and pushed away from the Impala, heading toward the hotel's front door. Another surge of urgency and fear emanated from the Mark connected to Sam's soul and she broke into a run. When an arm snaked around her waist, snatching her off her feet, she cried out and began to struggle, but a strong hand clamped down on her right wing where it joined her back.

"Stop," hissed a voice in her ear. "Stop struggling."

Recognition shocked her into compliance and she went limp in her captor's grasp. "Gabriel? What are you doing here?" she gasped.

"You can't go in there," he said, ignoring her question.

"The Winchesters are in there," she replied hotly. "_Sam_ is in there!"

"Yeah, well so is Lucifer."

Amitiel tried to renew her struggle but he only tweaked her wing painfully, forcing her once more to stillness. "I'm not letting you charge in there to get yourself killed," he growled, his mouth still hovering by her ear.

"He's my Marked," she whispered. "I can't let him die."

The hold on her eased. "What?" he demanded, surprised. Amitiel twisted hard, swallowing a cry of pain as she wrenched her wing out of his grasp before spreading the feathered limbs and transporting herself directly to Sam's side.

She found herself in a large dining hall, once decorated richly and now half destroyed. Sam and Dean crouched behind an upturned table while a woman shot flames from her hands toward a dark figure in the doorway. It took Amitiel a second look to identify her as the goddess Kali. Amitiel crouched beside the Winchesters.

"Are you all right?" she demanded.

"About fucking time one of you showed up," Dean growled at her. "Get us out of here."

"I can't," Amitiel replied tightly.

"What?" Sam asked, swinging his head around to stare at her.

"Lucifer is letting things in, but nothing out," she explained. Kali cried out and hit the wall not far from them, crumpling to the floor.

"Hide and seek is over, boys," Lucifer called out, and the table covering them slid away, leaving them vulnerable. Amitiel spun to her feet, drew her sword, and lunged in one smooth motion. Lucifer caught her by the throat with one hand, and her descending sword with the other. He tilted his head as he considered her, his expression bored.

"Well, what do we have here?" Lucifer murmured. "It's little Amitiel, isn't it? The angel of truth. How interesting."

"Let her go," Amitiel heard Sam say from behind her. She tried to struggle, tried to break free of the archangel's grip, but his presence was overpowering, smothering her. He pressed against her Grace, crushing weight, and Mallory cried out in pain from within.

Lucifer looked beyond Amitiel at Sam. "Sam, Sam, Sam. I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to free you. Don't you see how she's using you? Manipulating you? You don't actually think she cares about you, do you?"

"Let her go, you son of a bitch," Sam growled again.

"Sorry, no can do," Lucifer said with a shrug. He dropped Amitiel and the female angel crumpled at his feet, gasping for breath. She struggled to her knees only to feel Lucifer's hand cradle her cheek almost tenderly. "It's too bad you sided with them," he whispered to her. "I could have used you."

Amitiel closed her eyes and used her remaining strength to cast Mallory into a deep sleep. Sam cried out and Lucifer's touch vanished from her face. Amitiel braced herself for the blow, only to feel instead warm feathers wrap around her aching body. Her eyes flew open. She was enclosed in caramel-colored wings, four of them, cocooning her in safety and comfort. Gabriel stood beside her, sword in one hand. The other came to rest on her forehead. His golden eyes blazed into her gray ones, and understanding was reached without a word.

Gabriel stepped away from Amitiel, who pushed herself to her feet, renewed by Gabriel's touch. She darted toward Sam and Dean, who was helping Kali to her feet, as Gabriel turned to face Lucifer.

"Hey, Lucy, what have I told you about picking on the little sibs?" Gabriel taunted.

Amitiel reached the Winchester brothers and Sam pulled her against his side protectively. "We have to get out of here," she hissed at him.

"Gabriel," Lucifer drawled. "How untypical of you. Defending the helpless. You must have picked up some bad habits while you were away."

Amitiel tugged away from Sam but grabbed his arm. "This way," she ordered, beckoning to Dean and Kali. "Hurry."

Lucifer still blocked the door, but thanks to Gabriel, Amitiel felt better and stronger than she had in months. She threw out her hand toward the wall and blew a hole in it, pulling Sam through as she stepped over the rubble. The hallway beyond was sprayed in blood as the corpses of fallen gods littered the floor. Amitiel didn't spare them a look and didn't let go of her hold on Sam. She didn't allow them to stop or slow down until they reached the parking lot.

Dean fumbled trying to get the keys out of his pocket and still support Kali but managed to get the back door open and the Indian goddess inside. "Guys, get in the car!" he yelled at Sam and Ami. Ami released Sam and pushed him toward the car.

"Go," she said.

He caught her wrist. "You're coming, too."

She shook her head. "I'm going back for Gabriel."

"He can take care of himself, Ami. He's a freakin' archangel."

"He's my brother," Ami told him sharply, but Sam didn't let go. Amitiel was about to yank her arm from his grip when the building behind them exploded in white light, blowing out all the windows. Amitiel whirled around. "Gabriel!" she cried, lunging toward the hotel. Sam caught her around the waist and pulled her back.

"It's too late," Sam told her. "We have to go!"

Amitiel cried out again but went limp in Sam's grasp, allowing him to carry her to the Impala and bundle her into the backseat next to Kali. Dean had the engine running and peeled out of the parking lot almost before Sam had closed the passenger side door. Sam turned to check on the women. Kali had her head tilted back, eyes closed. Amitiel was curled up against the door, head resting on the window. Moonlight glinted on tear tracks down her cheeks.

XxxXxxX

When they reached Singer Salvage, Castiel was waiting for them on the porch. Amitiel climbed stiffly out of the Impala and made straight for her brother. When she reached him, Castiel wrapped his arms around Amitiel's tiny frame, resting his cheek against her hair. Dean and Sam hung back, allowing the siblings a moment of privacy.

Dean shouldered his duffel bag and handed Sam his. Kali had split the first time they'd stopped for gas, and no one had been inclined to look for her. As the brothers approached the porch, the angels parted. Castiel rested his hands on Amitiel's shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead. They left in the direction of the pond out back. Dean had just stepped over the threshold when Mary practically body-checked him.

He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around his mother. "Whoa," he said, frowning. "What's going on?"

"I was worried," she replied, her voice muffled by his shirt. She pulled away from Dean and embraced Sam, a bit more gently. "Castiel and Amitiel said you were in danger but Amitiel just left and Castiel couldn't tell us anything."

"We're okay, Mom," Sam assured her.

She stepped back and wiped her face dry. "Right. Well, come on. Are you hungry? I made you dinner."

Dean checked his watch. "Mom, it's three o'clock in the morning."

"Breakfast, then," Mary called over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. "Castiel told us when you were a couple hours out."

Bobby looked up when the boys entered the study. "Y'all all right?" he rumbled.

"Yeah, just a long drive," Dean said, dropping his bag beside his cot and sinking down onto the couch. Sam remained standing, looking out the window. He'd been quiet the whole drive, like he usually was after a confrontation with Lucifer. Dean was too tired to try to figure out what was going on in his brother's head.

"Well, at least you had the sense to call and tell us you were alive," Bobby went on. "Your mother was going plum nuts."

Mary stuck her head through the doorway. "Didn't you hear what I said? Come eat."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Yes, ma'am," they said at the same time. They followed Mary into the kitchen to find a plateful of grilled cheese sandwiches and enormous bowls of soup. Mary shifted awkwardly.

"We didn't have much in, so I had to make do," she said apologetically, wringing her hands together.

"No, it's fine," Sam said quickly. "It's great, Mom. Thanks."

She broke out in a brief, beautiful smile and fussed over them as they sat down and served themselves. Dean fumbled when he saw that Mary had made tomato soup with rice, but he recovered before anyone noticed. Mary sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and watched them with solemn, blue eyes.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked softly, looking from one to the next.

Neither answered for a long time. "Yeah," Sam finally said when Dean looked at him expectantly. "Yeah, we're fine."

"You're lying," Mary told him.

He blinked at her. "How on earth can you tell?"

"Because you get the same look around your eyes that your father did," Mary said, taking a sip at her coffee. "Seeing Lucifer scared you, Sam. It's okay to admit it."

Sam clenched his fist on the table, staring down at his tense fingers. He jumped slightly when a pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders. He twisted to look up at Mallory standing behind him. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept for weeks. But she managed a weak smile and squeezed his shoulders. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," Sam replied. "Ami okay?"

"She's resting," Mal replied. "She asked me to talk to you. All of you. Bobby, you too!" she called. Bobby rolled in from the library. Sam pushed his chair away from the table and snagged Mal's wrist, tugging her down into his lap. She folded her hands together and studied them for a moment.

"Before Gabriel..." she paused and took a deep breath. "He told Ami something. About Lucifer. He wanted you to know that there was a way to stop him. Without killing him."

Dean straightened. "You're serious?" he demanded.

Mallory pressed her lips together and looked down again. She sat with her back stiff and her shoulders square, tense and ill at ease. "Yes. There's a way to open the Cage and send Lucifer back in. All you need are the keys."

Her news was met by stunned silence. Sam took an unsteady breath. "The keys," he finally broke the stillness. "Where can we find them?"

"The rings of the Four Horsemen," she told him. "And a password chant."

"The rings," Dean repeated blankly. "Fantastic. We've got one. How the hell do we get the others?"

Mary put her coffee mug down and reached into her pocket. There was a quiet clink as she put a black signet ring on the kitchen table. Dean and Sam stared down at it. "Is that...?" Sam began, but his voice trailed off.

"Famine's ring," Mary confirmed. "We encountered him in Colorado while you were gone."

"You went after Famine?" Dean demanded sharply. He looked over at Bobby. "You _let_ her go after Famine?"

"We didn't know it was Famine, boy," Bobby snapped. "Besides, I don't _let_ her do anything."

"Dean, I'm a hunter," Mary told him. "And I wasn't alone."

The room fell into silence again. Dean leaned back in his chair, running one hand over his hair. "All right. Looks like we've got a battle plan."

XxxXxxX

The room was white, containing only a narrow bed and a small chest of drawers. Sunlight filtered through the single window, but it could not offset the cold, clinical feel of the place. The only thing that gave the room any individuality were the pencil sketches pinned up on the wall beside the bed.

"They're not very good," said a quiet voice from the doorway. Castiel turned around to look at the woman who had spoken.

Anna was greatly diminished without her Grace, a fragile human body holding millennia of angel's memories locked away in her brain. She was wearing the simple white scrubs of a patient at the mental hospital, her red hair vibrant against her pale skin.

Castiel gestured toward the pictures. "You are trying to capture heaven in two dimensions. It isn't possible. But you've done an admirable job."

She smiled. "How'd you know what they were? The doctors couldn't guess."

"I recognized this," he said, pointing to one. "This is the terrace you always loved to go to when you meditated. You would teach us the songs you composed because the acoustics there were perfect." He pointed to another. "And this is Hall of Scribes, where we would gather to report to the Archives. I remember the first time you allowed me to make the report for our garrison. Uriel was jealous."

Anna smiled at him again. "No one believes me when I tell them about those things." She walked over to his side and tapped a picture. "Like when I told the doctors that this was the Grand Concert Hall. It's a hundred miles wide, just so it can fit all of them." Her smile faded. "They just tell me that I'm ill. That it's not real."

Castiel put his hand on her thin shoulder and squeezed gently. "It is real, Anna," he told her softly. "And I promise, if we win, if we stop Lucifer, I will return your Grace to you."

She nodded, not really hearing him, or perhaps not understanding. Castiel dropped his hand and stared at her sadly. "Anna," he said at length. "I have to go now."

"Will you come back?" she asked, sitting down on the bed and pulling her sketch pad into her lap.

"I will try," he replied.

"I'd like to draw you. You have beautiful eyes."

Castiel smiled, faint and brief. "They aren't mine. I'm only borrowing them."

She bent low over her paper, pencil moving over the pristine white surface. "But you make them shine." He couldn't find words to reply to that. She kept drawing. "And I'd like to draw your wings," she went on. "Feathers are always a challenge."

Castiel shuffled said appendages, ruffling her crimson hair. She giggled and looked up. "I'm glad you came," she told him. "You're more interesting than anyone else here."

"I'm happy to be able to entertain you," he said honestly. "When I return, may I bring my sister? I think she would like to see your work, as well."

"That'd be fine," Anna said brightly. She wiggled her fingers at him. "Bye, angel."

"Goodbye, Anna," Castiel said.

Anna blinked against the sudden breeze. When she opened her eyes, she was alone in the room, as if her guest had never been there. Which he probably hadn't, and the whole conversation had occurred entirely in her head. She sighed, her brief moment of happiness gone. Even if he was a figment of her imagination, she hoped the angel would come back. When he was here, she was able to forget about the ache of longing in her chest.

She was so homesick.


	19. Chapter 19

"I don't want him here," Amitiel said. Again. She glared across the room. "I don't trust him."

"We heard you the first hundred times, Ami," Dean said wearily.

"Obviously you didn't or he wouldn't still be breathing," she snapped angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well lucky for me it's not up to you, is it, darling?" Crowley smirked at her, toasting her with his tumbler of whiskey.

Sam put his hand on her shoulder. "We don't trust him either," he assured her. "But it looks like our best shot at getting to Pestilence."

Amitiel pressed her lips together but didn't say anything. She and Castiel had been searching non-stop for two weeks and had come up with nothing pertaining to the location of the third Horseman. So when Crowley had stepped in with his offer, the humans were willing to listen. Crowley, of course, had tried to circumvent the angels, approaching Dean and Sam when they were alone, but the brothers had been smart enough to bring the angels in asap.

Castiel stood on the opposite side of the room from Amitiel, behind Crowley, which obviously bothered the demon, but he didn't dare comment. The fact that Castiel held a naked sword in one hand probably made the demon twitchy, too.

The building they'd met in had once been a meat-packing plant and still had the steel walls and insulated doors. No one passing by would see or hear anything. It'd been chosen as a neutral location for the meeting.

Dean turned to confront Crowley. "All right. You said you could give us Pestilence. So give."

"Ah, ah, ah," Crowley said, wagging a finger. "It doesn't work that way." Amitiel growled, her eyes narrowing and Crowley looked down his nose at her. "Kindly keep your dogs on a leash," he sniffed. Ami snarled and stepped toward the demon, but Sam tightened his grip on her shoulder. She hesitated for a long moment, and finally subsided reluctantly.

"That's better," Crowley said smugly, sipping at his whiskey. "Now. I don't actually know precisely where Pestilence is..."

This time it was Castiel who stirred threateningly, raising the sword in his hand. Crowley quickly went on, "But I can take you to the guy who does."

"Then you will do so," Castiel rumbled. "Immediately."

"I don't think so," Crowley said, raising his eyebrows. "You'd kill me soon as look at me. I'll take Dean and Dean only. Otherwise, no deal."

"All right," Dean said promptly. Castiel gave him a startled look.

"Dean, I shouldn't have to tell you the inadvisability of that plan," the angel began, but Dean cut him off.

"Dude, you've got a hotline to my vital stats. The instant something goes wrong, you grab my ass out of there, okay?"

Castiel frowned. "Dean," he tried again, but Dean once more cut him off.

"Cas, unless you can miraculously give us Pestilence, I don't see how we have a whole lot of options."

The angel exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fine," he said at length. He stepped around Dean and crowded into Crowley's personal space. "If anything happens to him," he growled. "Anything at all, and I will take great pleasure in ensuring your demise."

Crowley didn't back down, only raising one hand. "I promise that no harm will come to your boyfriend," he mocked.

Dean scowled. "All right, all right," he snapped. "When do we leave?"

The demon finished his alcohol. "Under the cover of darkness," he replied. "So it looks like we've got a few hours to kill. What fun."

After Crowley vanished to God only knew where, Castiel and Dean withdrew to argue in private, and Sam went for a walk, leaving Amitiel alone. She almost startled when she heard Mallory's voice from within.

_Ami._

"_Mallory. Child, are you well?"_

_I need some air._

Amitiel frowned. _"I don't think this is the most ideal time, with Crowley lurking around."_

_Ami, I haven't been out for two weeks. Please, I just need a few minutes._

The angel frowned, considering the girl's request. It was true that she had not allowed Mallory to the forefront in nearly two weeks as the search for Pestilence had taken precedence. She had not thought that this might have a detrimental effect on Mallory.

"_Very well. I will withdraw to meditate. But if anything happens, if anything makes you uncomfortable or afraid, then call for me."_

_I will,_ the girl promised. Amitiel folded herself into the back of Mallory's mind, withdrawing from control. The girl took a deep breath and stretched before heading for the door. She had just stepped out into the sunlight when she heard a voice behind her.

"Well, well, well. How...fascinating."

She whirled around to come face to face with Crowley, leaning against the wall. He smirked at her. "_You're_ not the angel. Did she let her pet out to play?"

"Shut up," Mallory snapped. She hesitated for a moment, considering whether or not to alert Amitiel.

"Oh, don't run off," Crowley said, pushing away from the wall. "What, can't stand being near a demon? I'd think you'd have a stronger stomach. You'd have to, hanging with the pathetic life forms known as the Winchesters."

"Don't call them that," Mallory replied sharply. "They're good people."

Crowley laughed. "Is that what you think? You really don't know them all that well, do you?"

Mallory almost awakened Amitiel, but she was reluctant to end her brief freedom after two weeks of being cooped up in her own head. "What are you talking about?" she asked despite her better judgment.

"They didn't tell you?" Crowley's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, that is just too rich. So you didn't know that while Dean was in hell he actually spent ten years dicing up other human souls. Became quite the accomplished torturer, I'm told. Broke the first seal, in fact."

Mallory shook her head. "No. He wouldn't."

"He did," Crowley went on. "And dear little Sam? Did he tell you how he shacked up with a demon, drank her blood, and used his demon-given powers even though heaven and big brother specifically told him not to? Or how about how he killed Lilith in spite of Dean's warnings and let Lucifer free to walk the earth?"

She took a step away from him, still shaking her head. "No. You're lying."

"You think so?" Crowley nodded beyond her. "Then go ahead. Ask him."

She whirled around to see Sam standing a few paces off, glaring bloody murder at the demon. "Fuck off, Crowley," he growled.

The demon laughed. "My work here is done." And he vanished.

"He was lying, right?" Mal pleaded. "Tell me he was lying."

Sam walked toward her. "Mal," he began, reaching out to her. She jerked away from his touch. "I never wanted you to—" he began.

"To what?" she demanded. "To find out the truth?" She couldn't decide whether to scream at him or cry. "You did it. You started all of this. The Apocalypse. It's your fault?"

He ran his hand through his hair, expression agonized. "Mal, I didn't know..."

She shook her head. Her thoughts were racing, muddled and unclear. Everything that had happened since she'd accept Amitiel...everything that had been done to her. She'd been kidnapped, beaten, burned, savaged, eviscerated, and thrown off a building. All of the pain, everything she'd given fighting to stop the Apocalypse and the whole time...

"You did this to me?" Her voice broke over the question.

Sam stared at her, unable to gather words to reply, even to apologize. Mallory closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. The girl overbalanced suddenly, barely catching herself. Her eyes flew open, storm-dark and confused. She cast around for a moment before frowning and looking down to study her hands, flexing the fingers before curling them into fists.

"Mal?" Sam asked, reaching over to touch her shoulder. She glanced first at his hand resting on her shirt and then up to his face.

"She is within," the girl replied. "She is...upset."

"Dammit," Sam muttered, dropping his hand. "Ami, can you... Can you talk to her?"

The angel's expression became vague for a moment before sharpening again. "She will not respond."

Sam took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. He felt Ami's hand close around his other forearm. "Sam, I'm sorry." He lowered his hand and gave her an inquiring look.

"For what?"

"I should have told her," Ami went on, her eyes never wavering from his. "I wanted her to have a good opinion of you. I never intended this to happen."

"Yeah, neither did I," Sam said bitterly. But he wasn't just thinking about Mallory learning the truth about the Apocalypse.

"I will keep trying to reach her," Amitiel assured him. "I will explain everything to her."

"Don't bother," he replied, pulling away from her grip. "She deserves better."

"Sam!" Amitiel called after him, but he ignored her, leaving her alone in the gravel yard.

XxxXxxX

Sam knew what Bobby's reaction would be. But he also knew that Bobby was the only one who would actually treat him like an adult capable of making his own decisions. He needed to be sure this would work, first. Needed to be sure this is what he wanted to do because there would be no going back. No second thoughts. So he took a deep breath.

"What if," he said slowly into the phone. "We open the Cage, and I jump in?"

He was met with stunned silence. So he waited. Sure enough, Bobby gave him hell. But he didn't convince Sam it was a bad idea. Obviously, Bobby wasn't happy with it. That was okay; Sam wasn't exactly thrilled about it, either. But he didn't have a whole lot of options. Mal had been right. All of this was his fault. He'd broken the world. It was up to him to fix it. So he hung up still thinking that this might be the only feasible plan.

If only he could convince Dean.

And his mother.

Amitiel appeared around the corner of the building and Sam started guiltily, hiding his phone as if it was evidence of his secret plan. "Everything okay?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"They've returned with the demon," Ami replied shortly. Sam followed her into the building, making their way back to the freezer room. Dean accosted them before they reached the door.

"Wait, Sam," he said, putting his hand in the center of his brother's chest to ward him off. Beyond Dean, Sam could see Castiel and Crowley securing the demon to a chair in the middle of a devil's trap. The demon's face was obscured by a brown cloth bag.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"I don't think it's a good idea if you," Dean began, but he was too late. Castiel ripped the bag off the demon's head and the blood drained from Sam's face.

"Brady," he whispered.

Brady, who'd undergone a significant personality change in their sophomore year. Brady, who'd shortly thereafter introduced him to Jessica. Brady, who was sitting tied to the chair, bleeding from a fatal head wound and glaring at Castiel from demon-black eyes. Realization dawned and fury burned through Sam's veins.

"You son of a bitch!" he yelled, bulling past Dean into the freezer. Castiel looked up in confusion and Crowley made a grab at Sam but the young man dodged around the crossroads demon. He slammed his fist into Brady's jaw with all of his strength, sending the chair toppling backwards. "You introduced me to Jess!"

Brady laughed at him from the ground as blood trickled from his split lip. "A little slow in the uptake there, huh, Sam?"

"I'm going to rip your heart out," Sam snarled, reaching down to yank the Knife from his boot. Crowley made another grab at Sam but he lashed out, carving a shallow gash across Crowley's hand and wrist.

"Bloody hell!" Crowley spat, recoiling and cradling his injured hand to his chest. "You wanking little bugger!"

Brady laughed again when Sam turned to face him once more. "Go on, Sammy. Do it. Rip me right out of my meat suit. Give in to all those dirty little urges. You know you want to."

And Sam did. He wanted to make Brady feel all the same pain he'd inflicted on Alistair, on Lilith. He wanted to feel Brady's existence puff out under the weight of his mind. But since there was no way he was going to toke up on demon blood, the Knife would have to do. He dropped down to one knee over Brady and lowered the demon-forged blade.

A slim, pale hand closed around his wrist and Sam's head jerked up to see Amitiel crouching next to him, her face mere inches from his own. Her eyes were serene, calm, but implacable. "No," she said quietly, firmly.

"Saaaam," Brady called. "Come on, Sam. You wanna know the truth? I didn't just introduce you to pretty little Jess, Sam. I'm the one that pinned her to the ceiling. I sliced her open while she screamed and I burned her alive. She was still alive, Sam. You could have saved her."

Sam made an inarticulate, animal sound and tried to yank free of Amitiel's grasp but her fingers tightened like a steel vise.

"No," she said again. "Not like this, Sam."

"Let me go," Sam growled between clenched teeth.

"We need him alive."

"Let me go," Sam snarled again. Amitiel reached over with her free hand and laid it against his cheek, forcing his face toward hers.

"Sam," she said flatly. "No."

Dean dropped his hand onto Sam's shoulder. "She's right, Sam," he said tightly. "Let it go."

"Let it go?" Sam demanded in disbelief. "Dean, do you have any idea what this means?"

"It means," Brady chuckled. "That the love of his life, his beloved Jessica, was specifically chosen for him by Azazel, just so we could kill her and break his heart."

Sam tried to go after him again, but Dean and Ami held him back. Ami released his wrist only to grab the front of his shirt with both hands and haul him to his feet, pushing him away from Brady. It was easy to forget how strong she was, contained in such a tiny body.

"Dean, take him out of here," she ordered. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him backwards toward the door. Amitiel then turned to Crowley. "Out."

"What do you think you're going to do?" Crowley demanded, still trying to stop the bleeding in his hand. Ami looked over at Castiel, who met her gaze and nodded.

"We're going to get the information we need," Castiel answered him.

"You two are going to work him over?" Crowley asked in disbelief.

Ami reached down to haul the chair Brady was tied to upright. "We have some experience working with demons," she said dryly.

"Yeah, all right," Crowley said reluctantly. He eyed Brady in disdain. "Let me know if you have any trouble." He followed the Winchesters out, leaving Brady with the two angels. For the first time the captive demon showed uncertainty, looking from one angel to the other. Amitiel tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Close the door, brother," she said at length. Castiel walked over to swing the steel door shut, cutting off all sounds from the inside.

XxxXxxX

Dean leaned against the wall and watched Sam pace the dirty floor. Crowley sulked in the corner, having bandaged his hand with a handkerchief, and shot occasional glares in the younger Winchester's direction. Dean didn't try to break Sam from his funk. He knew that Sam would have to reconcile it on his own; nothing Dean could do would help. Mal might, but Amitiel was busy. He'd ask the angel to have the girl talk to Sam.

Dean rubbed at his eyes. If Sam and Mal didn't admit this thing between them, he was going to lock them in Bobby's panic room until they did. Watching them toe the line was starting to get painful. The world was ending. If there was any time to take the plunge on a relationship, this was it.

He pushed away the thoughts and away from the wall, walking over to the steel door and banging on it. "You almost done in there?" he demanded. There was a long pause and then the door swung open. Castiel stepped through. There was blood spattered on his right sleeve.

"We have an address," he informed them.

"Brady?" Sam asked intensely. Castiel gave him a shuttered look.

"The demon is alive," the angel replied.

"I want him," Sam said, his voice low.

Castiel glanced at Dean, who nodded once. "Very well," Cas said. "But I warn you, Sam, only kill him. Attempt to use your powers and I will stop you."

"I'll only use the Knife," Sam promised. He drew the demon blade from where he'd stuck it in his belt and brushed past Cas into the freezer. Dean moved to the doorway to watch. Ami was standing in front Brady, wiping her hands on a blood-stained rag. She looked up when Sam stopped beside her and looked down at the half-conscious demon sagging against the bindings.

"Sam," she said softly. "This won't bring you peace."

"Not looking for it," he replied grimly.

Brady raised his head with great difficulty, squinting up at Sam from pain-blurred eyes. Blood dripped from his slack mouth. "Sam," he rasped. "He _will_ win. You _will_ say yes."

Sam's face remained frozen. He crouched to bring himself to eye-level with Brady and leaned forward to whisper in the demon's ear. Dean couldn't catch the words but something in Ami's expression shifted. Then Sam plunged the Knife into Brady's gut. Once the corpse stopped glowing, Sam straightened and yanked the Knife free, wiping it on Brady's suit. Then he turned and stalked from the room.

"Go after him," Amitiel told Dean. "Talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk about it," Dean told her.

She gave him a look, pressing her lips together. Dean sighed and went after Sam. He found him in the parking lot, staring up at the black night sky. The city lights obscured the stars, turning the sky into a blank, dark void. "You okay, now?" Dean asked.

Sam laughed, soundless and humorless. "That's a pretty stupid question, considering," he replied.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, probably." They fell silent.

"What'd you tell him, at the end?" Dean asked.

Sam just shook his head. Again they didn't speak for a while. Then Sam took a deep breath and dropped his gaze to Dean's face. "I have something I need to talk to you about."

Dean scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. I have an idea. About how to get Lucifer back in the Cage."

Dean studied Sam's expression. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

Sam gave him a crooked grin. "Nope."


	20. Chapter 20

Amitiel sat on the flat stone in front of the tiny pond, her knees drawn to her chest. Castiel sat behind her, her left wing spread over his lap and onto the grass. He threaded deft fingers through the plumage, straightening and smoothing the feathers. Angel wings were extensions of their Grace, so Castiel let a minute fraction of his Grace flow through his hands into Amitiel's wings. He paused over a patch of delicate skin where new pinions were just beginning to poke through to cover the ugly scars.

"Did Sam tell you about his plan?" Amitiel asked abruptly in Enochian, her eyes focused on the sun's reflections on the pond's ripples.

"Dean explained it to me," Castiel replied in the same language.

She hummed to herself. "So that was what he was ranting about."

"He was not pleased," Castiel agreed. He frowned as he combed through a knot of tangled and bent feathers, smoothing Grace over them like oil and watching them take on a glossy shine. "Neither are you," he continued.

"Should I be?" Amitiel asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sam wants to trap Lucifer in his body and cast himself into hell. I see no part of his plan that is actually possible."

"You don't know that."

"Brother, think about it. Could Jimmy wrest control from you? Or Mallory from me? A vessel cannot break free from the angel."

"Sam is stronger than either Mallory or Jimmy," Castiel pointed out.

"And Lucifer is stronger than both of us combined, many times over," she retorted. She twisted to stare at him in the face. "You cannot approve of this course of action."

He was silent, his hands resting on her wing. "I do not know whether or not Sam could succeed in this," he said at length. "But I think we must honor Sam's choice."

She snatched her wing from his grasp, raising them defensively at her back. "You are asking me to allow my Marked to hand himself over to Lucifer and, if he is very, very fortunate, throw himself into the Pit!" Her voice was low but it quivered with contained emotion.

"It won't be easy," Castiel admitted. Amitiel raised her eyebrows and rolled her legs underneath her to sit on her knees.

"Sam is my Marked, Castiel," she said again. "Could you, in my place, allow Dean to do the same?" He looked down, considering. She reached forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Brother. Neither of us expect to survive this war. It's a miracle that we have lived this long. If I let Sam do this, there will be no one to bring him out of the Cage. I cannot die knowing that with my last breath, I deny him any hope of rescue."

He closed his hand around hers. "I do not think Sam expects to be saved," he said carefully. His eyes darted back up to meet hers. "Sister, I believe he still blames himself for the Apocalypse. He may see this as punishment, his penance."

Her expression grew sad. "Oh. Oh, Sam..." She exhaled slowly. "Why do they insist on carrying the burdens of the whole world?" she whispered. Castiel had no answer for her. Amitiel looked away, towards Bobby's house. "Mallory...I'm afraid I may have made a mistake."

He waited for her to continue, and after a moment, she did. "I did not tell her about Dean and Sam's contributions to the Apocalypse. She found out last night from Crowley. She became angry with Sam. What she said to him would not have helped his guilt." She reached up to smooth her bangs away from her eyes. "Castiel, I think she loves him."

Castiel blinked. "That...is unfortunate."

"I shouldn't have allowed her attachment to him to grow this far," Amitiel said wearily.

"You did not know it would end this way."

"He was Lucifer's Chosen. I should have known."

Castiel reached over and touched her cheek. "Amitiel. Sister. Please. There is enough guilt among us. Don't add to it needlessly."

"Hey!" They both turned to look toward the house, where Dean stood on the porch. "Guys, come on!" he yelled. Castiel got to his feet and offered Amitiel his hand to assist her up. She accept and even allowed him to transport her directly to Dean's side. The human startled slightly when they landed, but settled for glaring at him before turning and stomping inside. The angels followed him into the living room, where they had to pass Crowley. Amitiel hissed at him, feathers ruffling in agitation. He only smirked at her.

They gathered in the library, shuffling positions until they all managed to fit. Crowley had one entire half of the room to himself, no one eager to share with him, especially after his latest move. Amitiel settled on the back of the couch behind Sam, dropping one hand onto his shoulder. He looked up at her in surprise; she hadn't spoken to him since he'd told her his intent to trap Lucifer. He frowned at her in silent question. She squeezed his shoulder. _We'll talk later._

"Okay, down to business," Dean said, slapping his hands together. "Now that we have Death's location, we may have a chance to go after his ring."

"Not we," Crowley spoke up, swirling his whiskey in his tumbler. "Same as before. Just Dean or no deal."

"Crowley," Castiel growled, taking a step forward. His sword slid down his sleeve into his hand and the lights overhead flickered. Crowley didn't look concerned, taking a sip of his alcohol.

"Look, angel, if you're getting jealous, I'll just say up front that I don't have any designs on your boyfriend. Also, you can't hurt me. You still need me."

Mary strode across the room, plucked the glass from Crowley's hand and tossed the liquid into his face. "Keep this up and we may change our minds," she said with a smile. "I'm sure we could muddle on without you."

Crowley blinked at her and dug a kerchief out of his pocket to mop his face dry. "Lovely woman. I could get used to her."

"Just enough to give me the opportunity to slit your throat," Mary called cheerfully over her shoulder on her way into the kitchen.

Castiel followed Mary with his eyes, his expression bemused. He dismissed his sword and said to his sister in Enochian, "That must be where Dean and Sam get it."

Amitiel grinned, bright and brief as a lightning strike. "Undoubtedly," she replied.

Dean glared at both of them. "Okay. Crowley and I'll go after Death. In the meantime, we still have Pestilence and the shipment of Croatoan virus to take care of."

"Amitiel and I will go after Pestilence," Castiel said immediately, looking over at his sister. She nodded in affirmation.

"Which leaves Sam and me to handle the virus shipment," Mary said from the doorway. Crowley looked over at Bobby.

"What, you're gonna just sit home and sulk?"

"Well, if you hadn't noticed, I've got a bit of a problem with the whole walking thing," Bobby growled. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"You should have driven a harder bargain. Lucky for you, I'm in a magnanimous mood."

Everyone stared at the demon, trying to figure out his meaning, when Bobby's eyes suddenly went very round. He leaned forward, hands braced on his knees, before slowly standing up from the wheelchair. He wobbled a bit and Dean lunged forward to steady him.

"Holy crap," Dean and Sam blurted at the same time.

Everyone stared for a moment longer, and then Bobby looked over at Mary. "Mind one more body tagging along with you?"

Mary shook her head, never taking her eyes off the old hunter. "Not one bit."

XxxXxxX

It took them only a few moments to confirm that the hospital was crawling with demons. The two angels stood just out of sensory range, close enough to each other for their wings to touch, and watched.

"This will be tricky," Amitiel finally said. "We can't get anywhere near it without raising the alarms."

"We'll need to be more subtle," Castiel agreed.

Amitiel smiled wryly. "Subtlety is hardly an angelic trait, dear brother."

"No, but it is a human one," he replied.

She blinked. "Huh."

"It worked for you before," he pointed out.

"It did," she confirmed. "But it isn't very comfortable. Actually, it's rather disorienting."

"There's no helping that. I think it's the best way."

"Agreed." Amitiel closed her eyes and searched within. When she found Mallory, the child was still curled up into as tiny a space as she could manage, from where she hadn't moved since her conversation with Crowley. Amitiel sighed.

"_Mallory?"_

There was no reply.

"_Mallory, I know you can hear me. I am sorry for keeping information from you. I should have told you everything before I guided you to the Winchesters."_

She didn't respond.

"_Child, I understand you are angry, and rightfully so, but this is not the time to allow emotions to rule us. We are fighting a war, and the last battle is approaching. We need all our soldiers, including you. I need your help now. Please."_

Mallory stirred faintly and uncoiled. _What do you need me to do?_

"_Do you remember the warehouse, when Astaroth took Sam and Dean?"_

_...Yeah. Okay. I can do that._

Mallory opened her eyes and looked over to her left. Jimmy was blinking, a frown creased between his dark brows. He stretched his arms, took a few deep breaths, and reached up to rub his temple. "Wow," he said. "That's...really weird, actually."

"You don't know how much you miss them until they're gone," Mallory replied.

He snorted. "Amazing what you get used to." He dropped his hand. "You ready?"

"Yeah." She smirked. "Let's do this."

All eyes in the emergency room turned to them when the man burst through the doors, carrying the limp form of a young woman in his arms. "Please!" he yelled. "Someone help us!"

A scrub-clad nurse approached them. "What happened?" she demanded.

"She just collapsed," the man said frantically. "I think she had a seizure."

"Is she epileptic?" the nurse asked, beckoning to an orderly for a gurney. "Does she have a history of seizures?"

"No, but we were in an accident a few months ago. She hit her head really hard."

"All right. We'll take care of her from here."

"No, you have to let me go with her. Please, she's my baby sister."

The gurney arrived and the nurse coaxed the man into laying the young woman down, but he didn't release her hand as they inserted an IV. "Sir, you're going to have to stay here."

"She's autistic. If I'm not there when she wakes up, she'll be frightened. Please, I can keep her calm."

The nurse grunted. "Fine, whatever." The man kept pace as they took the gurney through the hall. No one noticed that his attention wasn't on the girl one of the orderlies was administering oxygen to. No one noticed that the girl's eyes were open to slits, gray irises gleaming from under pale lashes. No one noticed her go stiff and then limp again as soon as they reached the examination room.

Amitiel opened her eyes and slammed her blade into the closest orderly's chest, yanking the sword out and blasting the corpse out of the way as she swung upright and hopped off the gurney, yanking out the IV as she did. Castiel grabbed the nurse from behind and calmly slit her throat while Amitiel went after the remaining assistant. The last demon didn't even make it out to the hallway before the female angel dropped him.

Amitiel took a moment to realign herself within Mallory's body. Jumping in and out of the vessel as often as she had over the past few months was taxing and not often done. But it was a useful strategy to get them past the demons' guards.

Castiel checked the hallway. "We're clear," he said. His wings were folded in as tight as they would go, his Grace tamped down in an effort to hide from demon senses. It wouldn't be long until their inevitable detection, but hopefully they would have found Pestilence by then.

They stepped out into the hall, trying to appear simply as two humans oblivious to the fact that all of the hospital staff were currently possessed by demons. They made their way deeper into the hospital, often ducking into side rooms to avoid notice, until Castiel finally held up a hand, his head tilted.

"I think I have him," he said softly. "Do you sense this?"

Amitiel reached out. It was the smell of rot and infection, the sound of rusty, creaking metal, and the slithering feel of cold mud all rolled into one. "That is disgusting," she said, wrinkling her nose.

He nodded in agreement and pointed. "This way."

Pestilence's presence led them to room at the center of the hospital. They flanked the doorway, Amitiel peeking through to get the lay of the land. Pestilence was a tall, thin, balding man, talking with a demon wearing an attractive brunette. The corpse of an elderly woman lay on the cot, still covered in her own vomit. Amitiel pulled back and met Castiel's gaze across the doorway.

He made a silent suggestion that she considered for a moment before adding a comment of her own. He approved and vanished. Amitiel dismissed her sword, tried to compact her Grace even more (_Which is sort of like trying to stuff a nuclear explosion into a cardboard box,_ Mallory observed dryly from within), and stepped through the doorway.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I was hoping I could speak to you for a moment." Pestilence and the demon turned to stare at her in bemusement. "It should only take a moment of your time," she went on.

Pestilence blinked. "Agatha, please kindly inform me how an angel managed to get past your guards," he said icily to the demon next to him. Her mouth opened and closed silently, her eyes wide and frightened.

"My lord, I'm sorry, I don't know," she stammered.

"Actually, I have a better question than how I got here," Amitiel said, smiling faintly.

Pestilence raised his eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"Where is my brother?" she replied.

The Horseman's eyes widened and he spun around, but it was too late. Castiel's hand closed like a vice around Pestilence's right wrist, slamming it down onto the table. A silver blade flashed, slicing through Pestilence's fingers, and the Horseman disappeared with a scream of pain and anger. The demon hissed and launched herself at Amitiel, her eyes clouding black, but the angel easily dispatched her while Castiel collected the ring. He looked at it for a moment, resting in his palm. Then he shoved it into his pocket.

Both angels vanished with the sound of feathered wings, the only trace of their presence a single, bloody footprint.

XxxXxxX

Mary hopped out of the van and reached back for her shotgun, slinging a bandolier of ammo over her shoulder and closing the sliding door as quietly as she could. "We sure this is the place?" she asked.

"Sure as can be," Bobby replied, checking his own shotgun.

Sam slid the magazine of his pistol into place. "Okay, listen. The infected are still human, so regular ammo will work on them. But there's no chance of saving them, so don't even try. They're only after two things: infect and kill. Don't let them bleed on you. They're strong and fast, so watch out. Mom, you got the stuff?"

She peeked into the canvas bag. "We're set," she reported.

"I'm gonna scout out the perimeter first," Bobby said. "See if I can find the best entry point."

"I'll go with you," Sam told him, grabbing a third shotgun from the van. Mary put her hand on his arm.

"Bobby, can you handle this alone?" she asked.

Bobby looked from mother to son and back. "Sure thing." He tugged on his cap and strode away into the darkness. Sam turned to give Mary a questioning look.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. "Seriously? You're going to go with oblivious?"

He sighed. "This is about the Lucifer thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's about the Lucifer thing." Mary released his arm and smacked him upside the head. "What the hell are you thinking, Sam?"

He rubbed his head, his expression more bemused than pained. "Mom," he tried to begin, but she cut him off.

"What possessed you to think that this would be a plan that we actually agreed to? Did you think at all that we'd let you do this?"

Sam dropped his hand, a scowl gathering on his broad forehead. "All my life, Dad and Dean have told me what to do. Gave me orders. Expected me to follow. Just once, I'd like my decisions to be respected, to be treated as an adult."

"It's not that I don't respect you, Sam, but I'm your mother," she told him, setting her hands on her hips.

"And you haven't been around much," Sam said brusquely. Mary's eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped open. Sam's expression wavered. He hated hurting her like this, but he soldiered on. "Mom. We're talking about the whole friggin' world here. What right do I have to be selfish? Whatever crap you and Bobby and Dean say about it, it's my fault. I freed Lucifer. And I'm the only one who can stop him, end of story."

She gazed at him sadly for a silent moment. "Why does it have to be us who save the world?" she asked softly. She took a deep breath and passed her hand over her eyes. "I just got you back, Sam. I don't want to lose you again."

He stepped forward, taking her hands in his much larger ones. "And I don't want to do this to you, to the others. But there's no other way."

A tear trickled down her cheek. "Sam. My little Sam. I love you so much."

Sam's own eyes began to burn. "You don't know how much I've wanted to hear those words from you," he said through a constricting throat. She freed one hand to touch his cheek.

"You remember that, Sam," she said fiercely. "No matter what happens. No matter what he does to you. You remember that I love you, always. You are my son, and I love you."

Sam covered her hand with his own, feeling the warm moisture on his cheek. "I will," he promised raggedly.

Bobby cleared his throat and they both jumped, turning to face the grizzled hunter. He looked awkward, shuffling his feet and not sure where to look. "I hate to interrupt," he said gruffly, "But if we're gonna do this, now would be the best time."

Sam quickly dried his face on his sleeve. "Hell yes let's do this," he said. "Mom, grab the C4. Let's blow shit up."


	21. Chapter 21

There was really nothing in the mangled, water-stained book that could help them at this point, but Sam was translating it from Latin simply because he needed something to do until it was time to leave. He couldn't believe that it was actually happening. They were going to end this, one way or the other. Dean had been adamant against Sam's plan until his meeting with Death, after which he'd grimly told Sam he was on board. Now all they could do was wait until they figured out where Lucifer was going to be.

Maybe it was the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Maybe it was something deep in his soul where a spark of angel's Grace nestled. But something made Sam look up. She was standing in the doorway to the library, her face so weary and her eyes so aged that he honestly couldn't tell if it was the girl or the angel. Sam closed the book, using his finger as a bookmark, and said nothing, waiting for her to speak first.

She stared at him for a moment, arms crossed over her chest, and then took a ragged breath. "Cas talked to us," she said.

Sam tried to crush the brief feeling of relief that flashed through his chest. Mallory. If she was talking to him, then maybe, just maybe he could get her to forgive him. "Mal," he started, but she held up a hand.

"He agrees with you," she went on. "Bobby and Dean and Mary...they think we should give you the chance." She fell silent and Sam waited. When she didn't seem inclined to speak, he took the risk.

"What do you think?" he asked softly.

"I think you're fucking crazy," she replied bluntly. "But that's just my opinion."

"Mal," he tried again, but she shook her head.

"Don't. Please don't apologize. I don't know if I can forgive you at this point."

Sam's heart sank and he lowered his head, dropping his gaze. "Yeah. I probably deserve that."

She snorted and walked over to him, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Don't be an idiot." His eyes darted back up to meet hers. "I know you, Sam. You're a good person. We all make mistakes. Starting the Apocalypse is a pretty big one, but still." She dropped onto the couch beside him. "That's not why I'm mad at you. I'm mad because you didn't tell me." She looked him in the eye. "You should have told me."

"I know," he replied simply. He set the book aside and cautiously reached over to enclose her tiny hand in his much larger one. Encouraged when she didn't pull away, he took a deep breath. "And on the subject of telling you things I don't want you to know, I'm going to have to drink a lot of demon's blood before I can accept Lucifer."

She made a grossed-out face. "Yeah," she said slowly. "We're going to have to work that out later."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean, later?" he demanded.

Mal raised her eyebrows. "Ami is of the opinion that she's not gonna survive this. I'm saying it's bullshit. We're making it through this because we're coming after you, Sam."

"No," he said instantly, his voice firm. "No, absolutely not. You have to leave me there, Mal. You can't risk messing with it. There's no coming back."

She rolled up onto her knees beside him and tugged her hand out of his grasp to take his face in both hands. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked, her face solemn. "Sam, we're connected. You, me, and Ami. We feel everything that you do. And if this works, and you go into the Cage, we're gonna feel everything that happens there. Every pain, every torment. Every moment."

Sam's eyes widened in horror. "You have to take it back. Ami has to sever the Mark. I can't—I don't want to do that to you."

"It doesn't work like that," she told him, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. "It's forever. Besides. Why would we want to?"

He frowned at her, about to ask what she meant, but the words were doomed to remain unspoken when she leaned forward to close the distance between them. Sam's first thought was to push her away. Not because he didn't want this (he did, _God_ he did), but not like this. Not because he was about to do the single most idiotic thing in a long string of poor choices. Not some end-of-the-world thing.

Then he thought, _what the hell?_

He slid his hand underneath Mal's thigh to pull her onto his lap, settling her in a more comfortable position with her knees straddling his hips. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers. It was hungry and needy and a little bit sloppy, hurried sips and tastes between panted breaths until Sam flicked his tongue against the seal of her lips and she parted them with an eager moan.

"Oh, _fuck._"

Sam groaned and rested his forehead against Mallory's, leaving his hands were they rested on her thigh and lower back. "Dean," he growled in a dangerous voice. Mallory giggled softly, half in embarrassment, tightening her fingers in his hair.

"Okay, one, it's about freakin' time," Dean went on, ignoring his brother. "But two, in public? Come on, have a little decency."

Mallory giggled again. "Dean," she said brightly. "Fuck off." With that she renewed the kiss, mouth open and inviting. There was a strangled sound from the doorway and retreating footsteps. Mallory laughed against Sam's lips. "I'm still mad at you," she murmured petulantly.

"We'll work it out later," Sam mumbled back, distracted.

XxxXxxX

The faces surrounding Sam on the street were mixed in their expressions. Castiel was stoic, Mary was clearly struggling to remain in control, and Bobby wouldn't meet Sam's eyes. Dean was grimly determined to see this thing through now that he'd agreed, and Mallory was not handling things well. Sam drew her to the side, hands on her shoulders.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked softly.

"Sam, Lucifer's _here_. In _Detroit_," she said frantically. "My home...my family, my friends. He's _here._"

"Nothing's going to happen to them," he told her firmly. "We're going to do this, okay?"

She took a deep shuddering breath. "Okay." She lunged forward, threw her arms around his neck to draw him down, and kissed him hard. "I'm coming for you. I promise."

"Don't do anything stupid," he admonished. He turned to face the others. Bobby was first, giving the taller man a tight hug.

"Don't give him an inch," he said gruffly, eyes suspiciously bright. "You keep fighting and you give him hell, you hear?"

"I will, Bobby," Sam told him. Bobby moved aside for Mary, who placed a kiss on Sam's cheek.

"Remember I love you," she whispered in his ear. He nodded and hugged her back.

Dean waited for him at the trunk of the Impala. Sam joined him, looking down at the four gallon jugs of dark red liquid. "I'd really rather you didn't watch this," he told his brother. Dean nodded, looking grateful, and went to wait with the others.

When the last of the demon blood was gone, Sam slammed the trunk. He could feel the power singing through his veins and he was jittery, full of energy like any moment he was going to burst out of his skin. His senses had sharpened. Castiel glowed faintly in the darkness, white and pure. Next to him, Amitiel had the same aura, the angel taking over from the girl. He met her gaze and she reached up to touch her chest with her fingertips. A responding blossom of heat flowered under Sam's breastbone; a physical reminder that his angel would be there with him every step of the way. He turned to look at Dean.

"Let's do this."

Amitiel watched the human brothers walk off down the dark street. Castiel reached over and took her hand, squeezing reassuringly. Mary began to pace, her hands continuously moving. Bobby stood stock still, eyes fixed on the ground.

They waited.

Amitiel felt when Sam used his powers, a surge of darkness that made her twitch. Instantly, all eyes were on her. She swallowed and closed her eyes, reaching out through the Mark to the young man.

_He can do it. He'll do it. He can do this. It'll be okay. He can do it._ Mallory's voice was a steady comfort, the girl seeking to reassure herself as much as the angel. But Sam's racing heartbeat pulsing against the Mark and his fear swirling sickeningly in Amitiel's stomach was not helping.

**Yes.**

Amitiel gasped and clutched Castiel's hand tighter, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out when Lucifer's presence overwhelmed Sam's. Light, darkness, pain, exhilaration, pressure, noise, and deep, visceral fear almost drove her to her knees. "Sam!" she called in a voice almost a sob.

Castiel released her hand and grabbed her shoulder in order to keep her upright when her legs buckled. "It's done," she said thickly. Mary made a low noise and pressed her hand to her mouth. Bobby put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.

_He's gonna be okay. He's strong. He can do this. It'll be fine. Oh God, Sam... Please, please, please don't mess this up. You gotta fight him, Sam. You have to win. You have to... Please God, just help him. Please. Please let him win._

Amitiel could feel Sam fighting. She could feel him rage, clawing like a caged animal, screaming and thrashing and beating himself against the confines of his own mind. Mallory could feel it, even though Amitiel wanted nothing more to shield the child. She cried as she prayed from within.

Amitiel opened her eyes, not really seeing the others standing around her. "Something's wrong," she murmured, forgetting to speak in English. "Castiel, something is wrong."

"What is it?" he demanded.

She blinked focusing on his face. "He's not winning," she whispered. Then Sam vanished. She cried out, stumbling forward despite her brother's grip on her arms. "No!" After a moment of panic, she realized she could still sense him, distant but clear.

Dean stumbled back towards them. Mary broke away from Bobby to run to him, holding him up when he nearly fell. "He's gone," Dean said, deep in shock. "It didn't work. Sam's gone."

Amitiel cried out and sank to her knees, arms wrapped around her stomach. Castiel followed her down, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face against his shoulder, drawing deep, ragged breaths. Mary cradled Dean's head while her son trembled, his hands clenched in her jacket. She stared at nothing, unaware of the tears chasing themselves down her cheeks.

Dean finally pushed away from his mother, refusing to look her in the eye. Mary let him go. He walked out of the alley where they had parked the Impala, heading across the street to the storefront filled with television sets. Bobby and Mary followed him, leaving the angels behind.

Already the news station showed images of fire, hail, and water turned to blood. They stood in stunned silence, watching the devastation. "What are we supposed to do now?" Mary whispered.

Dean suddenly growled. "We stop this."

Bobby looked at the younger man. "How?" he wondered without much hope.

Dean's face was carved from stone. "Only way we can." He turned and stalked back to the Impala, climbed in, and gunned the engine. Bobby and Mary watched him leave with blank eyes.

"Well, shit," Bobby said at length.

XxxXxxX

Dean drove. Drove until the city faded to suburbia and then to countryside. Drove until he was hopelessly lost and kept on driving. He wasn't sure where he was going, or where he needed to be. He just knew he had to be _somewhere else than here_.

He refused to let himself feel. If he did he'd completely fall apart. Refused to think about what had happened. Refused to think about Sam. What Sam was going through. Refused to think about what they had done. He clung to one single thought and blocked out all else. Just one thought, one hope, that he might end this.

He didn't think about the consequences. They were far beyond that. He didn't think about how it would affect Mary or Bobby. Or Cas. He tried not to think about Cas at all. He didn't think about the fact that this was the very thing he'd been fighting with every ounce of his strength since that fucked-up moment in Dad's old storage room.

The low fuel light blinked on the dashboard but he didn't stop. His hands ached from gripping the steering wheel but he didn't ease up. He gritted his teeth until it felt like his jaw would crack. The dark landscape flowed past outside the windows, but he didn't see it. Saw only his failure and Lucifer wearing his brother.

The Impala's engine sputtered and died, the car drifting to a halt on the gravel shoulder of the road. Dean slammed the door open and stumbled out. How long had he been driving? His legs had gone stiff. The eastern horizon was turning gray, streamers of peach and blue strung out over the predawn sky. He walked away from the road, into field beside it, until he could no longer see his car. Then he stopped, tilted his head back, and looked up at the sky.

For a moment he was silent, and then he laughed, soundless and humorless. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You son of a bitch. You knew this was where we'd end up." He laughed again, mania edging into his voice. "Was this your plan the whole time? Drive us into a corner so we'd have no other choice?"

He ran his hand over his short hair, closing his eyes briefly. "We could have stopped it," he whispered. "We were so close." He opened his eyes again and glared up at the sky. "The whole world is gonna burn and it's your damn fault!" he yelled. "D'you hear me? You did this! Not me! Not Sam! You!"

He punched the air accusingly, his voice raising. "We didn't deserve any of shit! None of this! All we ever did was help people! And all our lives we get the shit end of the stick. Sam should have gone to college. Should have gotten married and had a boring life. That's all he's ever wanted, but no! You guys fucked with his life from the very beginning. Everything that he's been through, that's on you!"

Dean dropped his arm, breathing heavily. "We don't deserve this," he whispered again. He closed his eyes. "Damn you. Damn you to hell." He lowered his head to his chest. "All right, Michael," he muttered. "You win this round."

Straightening, he opened his eyes and squared his shoulders.

"Yes. You hear me, you son of a bitch? I'm saying yes. Come and get me."

He stood there, arms spread to his side and head tilted back, waiting. Nothing happened. Dean lowered his arms, feeling like an idiot. "Typical," he muttered. He turned to start walking towards the Impala.

His world exploded into light and fire and sound.

XxxXxxX

He was waiting for them when they arrived, sitting at his desk with a clean shirt and looking more well-groomed than he had in years. He was considering a glass tumbler in his hand as if trying to decide whether or not to fill it from the bottle of amber liquid sitting next to his laptop.

"Chuck," Castiel began.

The prophet's eyes darted over to the angel. "You do know that Michael has taken Dean, right?"

Castiel's expression tightened. "Yeah, I know."

"Where is the battlefield?" Amitiel demanded. "Where will the confrontation take place?"

Chuck put the glass down and looked straight at the female angel, a far cry from his previous timid demeanor. "What do you think you can do, Amitiel?" he asked her. "We're talking about the showdown between the two heavyweight champions of the universe. You two don't even make it into the light category."

"Tell us where," Castiel said.

The prophet sighed. "Fine. But don't blame me when you guys get yourselves killed. It's in Skull Cemetery outside Lawrence, Kansas. Good luck."

"Thank you," Amitiel whispered.

Chuck sighed as the papers on his desk stirred. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and swallowed it, more slowly this time. He grabbed the nearest mildly empty scrap of paper and a pan and scrawled a barely-legible note across it.

"Becky—

Take care of this for me. You know what to do.

—Chuck."

He placed it on top of his laptop, took another look around his house, and got to his feet, reaching for the blazer hanging across the back of his chair. He slipped it on, straightened it, and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to the figure standing unnoticed in the corner.

"So," he said.

Joshua stepped further into the room. "Your earthly work is done, Chuck Shirley," the angel said. "It's time to go home."

Chuck took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

XxxXxxX

The cemetery had long ago ceased to be used, the graves overgrown and the tombstones weather-worn. The wind blew through the iron fence, setting the gate to creaking. The sound of a lone crow broke the silence.

Lucifer watched the crow fly overhead, eyes tracking the bird's movement. When he lowered his gaze, he found himself confronted by his brother. "Michael," he greeted. "You look well."

"Lucifer," Michael replied. "It is good to see you."

"If that were true then you wouldn't be here," Lucifer countered. Michael looked away.

"It is the truth," he said softly. "I have missed you, little brother."

"Then why are we doing this?" Lucifer asked, taking a step towards Michael. "Do you ever wonder? Michael...We don't have to do this."

Michael frowned, green eyes hardening. "What are you talking about?" he demanded gruffly.

"Look at us," Lucifer replied, his voice soft, almost seductive. "We're brothers. We love each other. What kind of father asks this of His children? We have another choice. We could just...walk off the board."

A scowl gathered on Michael's borrowed face. "You're talking about violating the plan that has been established since the beginning of time."

"But it isn't _our_ plan," Lucifer insisted. "Don't you see, Michael? This is what He wanted since the beginning. He wanted to turn us against each other, weaken us so we would never question Him. These pathetic creatures of dust can question Him, but we, His firstborn, we must do whatever He asks without question. Without doubt. But together—"

"No." Michael cut him off, his voice hard as steel. "Save your corrupt words for the weaker-minded, Lucifer. I won't be swayed."

Lucifer sighed. "So you insist on this?"

"Yes, because I am a good son," Michael replied.

Lucifer clenched his fists. "Then what are we waiting for?"

The two archangels began circling each other, wings unfolding to aggressive positions and the air going dry and static from gathering Grace.

"Dean! Sam!"

At the sound of the cry, both angels stopped and turned to stare at the intruder. Mary stood several yards away, Bobby further behind her. She took a couple more steps forward. "I know you can hear me," she continued. "It's all right. Everything is going to be all right. I'm here."

Michael frowned at the woman. "Mary Winchester. You cannot interfere with this. Permission has been granted. It has begun. You should leave."

"No, let her stay," Lucifer countered immediately. "I think she'll want to see this."

Mary ignored both of them. "I know it's hard, boys. Dean, I know you think we can't win. But please. Please, you have to fight. You're strong. I know you are. Both of you. You're stronger than I am, than your father. I need you to fight. Fight for me."

Michael took a step toward her. "Mary, please. You must go now. I cannot guarantee your safety and I wish no harm to come to you."

"Those are empty words, Michael," Lucifer shot back. "You're the one willing to burn this planet to ashes to stop me."

Michael whirled on his brother. "You started this, Lucifer," he growled. "You turned against us." He turned back to Mary. "Please. I don't want to hurt you."

"And I want my son back, you bastard," she snarled.

Michael reached his hand toward her, ready to transport her away from the impending battlefield, when a hand clamped on his shoulder and he was whirled around to face angry blue eyes and the cemetery vanished.

The archangel took a step backwards and almost stepped out onto thin air, his heel grinding against the edge of the earth, red dirt crumbling into the void. He looked around and realized that he'd been transported to Arizona. He returned his gaze to his captor.

"Castiel," he rumbled. "You have gone too far."

The warrior angel stood a few paces in front of Michael, wings still outstretched from flight. His Grace was diminished, tarnished and worn from his fall, but it still managed to blaze bright and defiant. "I'm not angry with you," he said softly, his eyes boring into Michael's. "You felt as if you had no other choice. Your brother...you had to stop this. Before he destroyed everything you had worked so hard for. So you made a decision you felt was right. I understand. But it's not too late to end this. There is still hope."

"What right do you have to speak of this?" Michael spat. "You chose to rebel, just as Lucifer did."

Flame burned in Castiel's eyes. "I wasn't talking to you." He strode forward and laid his hand on Michael's left shoulder. "Dean," he said, peering into Michael's eyes, looking through the archangel, searching deeper. "I have faith in you. From the beginning and even now. Keep fighting. You owe me that much."

Michael lifted a hand and blasted the weaker angel to the ground. "Dean has no more say in this matter," he said coldly. "He has given himself to serve heaven."

Castiel pushed himself to his knees and lifted his head to face the archangel. Blood trickled from his mouth. "Dean," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever happens...don't blame yourself. It isn't your fault. None of this. You're not to blame." His expression turned hard and bitter and he glared up at the archangel. "Heaven is."

Lightning crackled among the pinions of Micahel's flame-colored wings as they spread out to fill the sky behind the archangel. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Blood sprayed the red dirt on the canyon's edge.

XxxXxxX

Lucifer stared at the petite angel standing in front of him. "What," he asked in disbelief. "Could you possibly hope to gain from this?"

"Did you think I was going to stand by and let my human die alone?" Amitiel returned, her head up and wings raised defiantly.

"_Your_ human?" Lucifer echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Didn't you notice?" Amitiel smirked. "I Marked him. Sam Winchester belongs to me."

It took only a second to confirm her words. "You little whore," Lucifer snarled, his face twisting in rage. "He was chosen for me from the beginning! How dare you!" He lunged forward, seizing her by the throat. She didn't resist, her hands coming up to grasp wrist as she struggled for breath.

"Ami!" Mary cried, starting forward.

"Stay back," Amitiel wheezed. "You promised..."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, blue-hazel irises gleaming gold. "You still think there's a chance he'll win, don't you?" he asked the angel. He released her and she dropped to the ground, couching and choking for breath. Lucifer went down on one knee beside her. He leaned over to whisper. "Angel of truth. Stop lying to yourself. I'm going to kill you all. And he's going to watch." Then he plunged his hand into her Grace.

Amitiel's back arched, head thrown back. A scream ripped itself free from her throat, raw and animal. Lucifer could feel her Grace, hot and burning, like a star hidden inside a clay jar. He bared his teeth in a savage grin. Her Grace began to unravel, threads of fire spooling out from the vessel to burn and die out in the ether. She screamed again, her true voice breaking free of human limitations. Lucifer pulled his hand out of her chest and watched her collapse again to the grass, stirring weakly.

She tried to crawl away, fingers clawing at the earth. Lucifer reached over and took hold of her right wing where it joined her back, pinning her into place. He shoved his hand into her Grace again, seeking out the last, tattered remnants. They were more elusive than he'd expected, and just as he found them, Amitiel gathered her strength one last time and scattered them.

The vessel went limp in the dry grass, still and unmoving. Lucifer withdrew his hand, feeling slightly disappointed. Amitiel had chosen to end her life rather than suffer any more torment. Ah well. He'd always known she was weak. He rose to his feet, squared his shoulders, and turned to consider the two humans. They were staring at him, projecting shock and hatred, fear and anger. Beautiful emotions. His favorite.

"_Are you watching, Sam? This is for you."_

Lucifer took a step forward, eager with anticipation, when he was abruptly grabbed from behind and spun around to meet the furious gaze of his brother. Except it _wasn't_ Michael looking out from those verdant eyes. Lucifer pulled free and raised a hand to blast the impertinent human from existence. His arm trembled with the effort and then lowered.

"_What? No. What is this?"_

Dean Winchester lunged forward to grab Lucifer by the front of his jacket. "Sam?" he demanded. "Hey. You in there? Come on, Sam. I know you can do it."

Lucifer snarled, moved to pull away, and found that his legs would not obey him. "Dean," he rasped, except he had not spoken the word. "Dean, I can't..."

"You _can_," Dean insisted, his face only inches from Lucifer's. "You have to. Come on, Sam. I'm right here. Sammy, I'm right here."

"He killed..." Lucifer tried to close his mouth, stop the words, but they came anyway. "He killed Ami."

Dean's face hardened. "I know. Cas is gone, too. But we're gonna do this, Sammy. We'll do it for them. Come on."

"_No! You cannot do this! This is not how it is supposed to go!"_

Lucifer stumbled forward, grabbing Dean's head with both hands. "Dean," he said again, voice tight with effort. "Dean."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," Dean replied, leaning his forehead against Lucifer's. "I'm right here, all the way."

Lucifer screamed and raged and tried to crush the skull between his hands, but his body would not obey. "Dean," his voice whispered. "I got him."

"Then you know what to do."

Lucifer leaned away from Dean, reaching into his jacket with one hand but gripping Dean's shoulder with the other. His fingers closed around the rings in his pocket, pulled them out, cast them to the ground. The words formed in his throat and he tried to catch them, tried to silence them, but they passed through his lips, twisting through the air to rip open the earth.

Wind whistled around them, sucked in through the mouth of hell. The two men teetered at the edge, still clinging to each other. "Sam!" Dean called over the rush of noise. "It's time!"

Sam nodded and tightened his grip on Dean. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself fall, Dean at his side the whole time. And within, Lucifer screamed in silence as the edge of the earth rushed past them.

There was a clap of thunder as the earth healed itself, and then silence. The wind died. The cemetery was still, occupied only by two shell-shocked humans and the still body of an angel. The sun shone, and the world didn't end.

XXXXXX

A/N: The Angel of Truth Cycle will continue in #4: Time of Angels. Thanks for sticking with me this far. Hope I'll continue to meet your expectations.


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